


Homecoming

by Sarren



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Cluster As Family (Sense8), Cluster Feels (Sense8), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Getting Together, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, OT3, Post-Series, Protective Cluster (Sense8), Slow Burn, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-03-29 17:18:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19024420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: A brain injury prevents Kala from being born at the same time as the rest of her cluster. Years later, when she is kidnapped by enemies of her husband, foreign spirits come to her aid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ConvenientAlias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/gifts).



> NOTE: Warning for mild violence, possible reference to mental health. See warnings at end for further details.
> 
> Beta'd for flow and characterisation by the lovely roguefaerie, thank you. I should add that this fic grew by a third since it was beta'd and posted (they kept extending the deadline!), so any errors are all mine.
> 
> I knew nothing about Indian culture when I started writing this, and while I've googled a lot, I'm super aware that I may have misunderstood references, or overlooked details that didn't occur to me, so if there's anything I've screwed up or been inadvertently insensitive about, please do let me know either in comments or by email (which I will fill in after the reveal period). Thank you.

_Rajan will come for me. Rajan will come for me. Rajan will come for me._

The words have become a mantra that Kala clings to in the gloom as she huddles on the dank mattress that’s all that protects her from the cold, hard floor of the underground cave.

She’s lost track of how long she’s been here. When she’d first been dragged down endless flights of stairs to be thrown into this cell, she’d rejected the foul-smelling mattress and crouched against the wall on the other side of the cave, shivering with cold and fear.

She reminds herself over and over that her husband is a powerful man and his father even more so. With their fortune, and their business and political connections, they surely have the resources they need to find her. They’ll come for her soon. But she’s finding it hard to maintain her equanimity when the cold is seeping into her skin and the unforgiving hardness of the stone floor is making her body ache whenever she tries to sit or lie in one position for too long.

The hours creep by. No one has come to tell her what’s going on: why she’s been grabbed off the street and taken God knows where, what they want from her. Eventually she feels the need to relieve herself. She tries to ignore it, praying that someone will come soon. When the need to go starts to become a physical pain she abandons pride to go to the cell door, peering into the dimly lit corridor through the bars, calling out, hoping desperately that someone can hear her, that they haven’t abandoned her here to die.

She pleads. She threatens. Eventually, she cries. Her voice is swallowed up by the gloom. She feels hysteria rising as she convinces herself that no one will ever come for her. The conviction threatens to overwhelm her, terror closing her throat so that she can’t call out anymore.

 

She comes back to awareness to find herself lying slumped against the bars, the cold steel pressed against her cheek. She has no idea how long she’s been out of it, but it doesn’t matter, does it, not in this place? Unless it wasn’t just an absence seizure because she hasn’t taken her medication today. Is it even still today? Shock, perhaps. But if she is going into shock there isn’t much that she can do about it. The need to urinate is still urgent; a sharp cramp makes her gasp.

She’s thankful that she’s been spared the indignity and discomfort of losing control of her bladder. She’s going to have relieve herself in a corner. Thankfully, the cell is large enough that she won’t have to sit too near to the waste. She walks around the edges of the rough-hewn walls, looking for some sort of hole or crack in the ground that she can use so the waste will be at least somewhat contained, and comes across a couple of dark-coloured plastic buckets that she hadn’t noticed before in the dimness of the room. One of them is half-filled with water, a scoop attached. The other one, with a lid on it, is empty.

A deep anger kindles within Kala and she hugs it to her, feeling the strength returning to her spine. Once she’s done what’s necessary, she squares her shoulders and returns to the dirty mattress, noticing then what she’d missed before—a bedraggled blanket, untidily folded at the end. She picks it up and shakes it out, and then wraps it around her shoulders. She sits down gingerly on the mattress. It’s lumpy and thin, but it’s better than the cold floor.

_Rajan will come for me._

 

Time must pass, but she has no sense of it. The grey corner of her mind, the blankness that’s baffled doctors since the coma—it feels like it’s spreading, like her mind is dulling in real time the longer she stays here. The thought that she’s losing herself, losing her mind alone like this, terrifies her as much as everything else that’s happened. She wills herself into calmness, concentrating on keeping her breathing steady.

She will use this time constructively. She can take this opportunity to consider avenues other than the focused area she’s currently working in, devise calculations for new experiments that branch off from the work she’s doing now, practical applications that she can apply when she returns to her lab. And she will return to her lab. She will get out.

Her captors will come for soon, she assures herself in between calculations. They will come for her. They want something. They must want something. Surely not from her—nothing she’s working on is that important. They must want something from Rajan, or his father. They’ll give them whatever they want surely, to get her back? It won’t be long now.

She runs calculations until she tires, and then she sleeps. She wakes, runs calculations, and sleeps. When she can’t think of anything new to consider, she runs them again. Eventually the numbers cease to make sense and she gives up.

She wakes from an exhausted stupor at one point to find a carton of bottled water has been left in her cell and a paper bag containing food. Even over the other smells in the cell, the aroma makes her mouth water. Or perhaps she’s just become accustomed to the odours. The appetite that had deserted her, returns with a vengeance and her stomach cramps. She tries to get up, but her limbs are uncooperative, cramped and cold. She manages to lurch forward onto all fours and from there pushes herself to her feet. She stands, swaying a moment, but her parched mouth and the pangs of hunger drive her stumbling forward to collapse beside the bag.

First things first. She rips open the carton and grabs a bottle of water, twisting the lid off and letting it fall unheeded. She forces herself to drink slowly, not gulp it down and risk vomiting it up again. The thought occurs to her to ration the amount, to conserve resources in case they don’t bring any more, but she decides resolutely that she’s not going to do that. She needs to keep up her strength. She is at her captors’ mercy. If they want her alive, they will bring her food and water when she needs it, if they don’t….

_Rajan will come for me._

On closer inspection she can make out the Jumbo King packaging. She opens the bag to find, as expected, an assortment of vada pav. She hasn’t eaten at the fast food outlet since she was a child, yet it evokes a sudden and vivid memory of her auntie. It’s her nephew’s birthday and her auntie has given to his pleading for burgers, much to the good-natured chiding of Kala’s restaurateur father. She swallows a lump in her throat at the thought of her family. Will she ever see her father, or the rest of her them, again?

The food is cold, but still fresh, and it gives Kala hope that they haven’t taken her too far from Bombay. As far as she knows, the fast food chain is still mostly based there. She has to remind herself sternly that this is supposition only, and not to indulge in wishful thinking.

 

Days pass. She’s not sure how many, but she’s getting low on food. Eventually someone comes.

The first Kala’s aware of it is when she’s grabbed roughly by the arm, startling her awake as she’s pulled to her feet and dragged, stumbling down the cave corridor and up endless flights of stairs. There’s enough lighting coming from bulbs strung overhead to see where to step but she’s exhausted by fear, her feet leaden. She stumbles, over and over, hurt cries escaping from her at the pain in her shins and knees. There’s a curse from the captor holding her arm. He stops abruptly and then bends and hefts her over his shoulder like a sack of rice. He’s a big man; he carries her effortlessly the rest of the way up the stairs. Kala’s head is swimming, the lights dancing before her eyes. She’s unable to focus on anything in this upside-down world, and when she’s dumped on the ground, she’s too busy trying not to throw up to pay attention to her surroundings at first. She swallows hard and concentrates on taking deep breaths. When she can focus again, she looks up to see a man staring at her.

It’s not the look of distaste on his face, or the scar curving from his cheekbone to the side of his mouth, pulling his lip to the side, that terrifies her. It’s his eyes. They’re dead. Kala searches for some hint of compassion, of humanity, and finds none.

This man will have no mercy for her. She tries to speak but her mouth is too dry, and her words come out a croak. She looks up at the man pleadingly.

The man glances away from her and gives a sharp nod. One of his henchmen—for he is clearly in charge—steps forward and holds up a weapon. Kala whimpers. Then there’s a blue electrical charge and Kala realises it’s a stun gun. Oh, God. They’re going to use it on her. The henchman holding the stun gun takes another step forward. Kala looks back at the leader. “Please, no,” she whispers.

The leader regards her impassively. He doesn’t speak. Is she so beneath his notice?

“Why?” she tries. She clenches her hands into fists to stop herself reaching out, clutching at his legs, trying to keep some vestiges of pride.

At this he does raise his eyebrows. “Your husband appears to require further convincing regarding my determination to get what I want.”

The terror is almost paralysing. Rajan won’t cooperate? Won’t give them what they want? It makes no sense. He loves her. They’re lying. If she could only think clearly. A misunderstanding, perhaps? If he knew what she was going through… “My husband, let me speak to him. I’m sure he’ll give you what you want.”

“It seems not. So, I’m afraid, my dear, that a demonstration is required to assist him to change his mind.”

The man with the stun gun steps forward again. Kala shrinks back, scrabbling to get away, and then cries out as agony shoots through her side as she’s kicked by another man behind her. “Please, no,” she begs, and then the man is looming over her and the stun gun is pressed against her skin. “Please,” she whimpers and then her all her muscles lock up, and she can only scream. The excruciating pain seems to last forever before she is released to keel over on her side on the ground, barely aware of her cheek scraping against something rough. “Oh Ganesha, help me,” she prays.

 

And then she’s looking down at her body, watching her limbs still twitching spasmodically, aware that electricity is still crackling throughout her body, and she knows what’s happening. She’s having a motor seizure, such as she’d been prone to after her accident nearly four years ago, after the coma. She hasn’t had one in years, not since she started taking the medication to prevent them.

She looks up. There are more people in the room now, many more. They’re looking at her. Not at her body, convulsing on the ground. At her… spirit. They are looking at her with concern, pity… surprise. Most oddly of all, she can tell what they’re feeling not from their expressions, but from within her, surrounding her, their emotions indistinguishable from her own. Perhaps they are spirits sent by Ganesha. Although, if they are, they are not at all what Kala would have expected—foreigners, all of them, different races, different modes of attire. A couple of them are even wearing pyjamas. Kala finds herself fixating on that oddity. Some of them are looking around now, as if trying to understand what’s going on. She can feel their confusion as if it were her own.

She tears her attention away from the spirits. Her captors are staring at her. The ones that look at her as if she is beneath there notice she finds less frightening than the ones whose lascivious expressions make her wish she had the blanket to wrap around her as a shield against their lust.

A man with slicked back hair and long sideburns is looking down at his phone.

The leader looks at the man with the phone. “You got it all?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Send the file to Rasal with my compliments.”

The man nods.

The leader looks down at Kala’s twitching body with his cold eyes. “Get her back to her cell.”

Kala blinks and she’s back in her body, being hauled to her feet, her body aching, a crippling cramp in her side. She prays she doesn’t have an internal injury.

The spirits are gone.

Back in her cell she curls up on the mattress. Only after she hears the cell door lock and the footsteps of her captors’ retreat does she allow herself to weep.

 

Kala wakes, groggy and aching. She lies still, listening for any sound. Is there someone there? Have they come for her again? Minutes pass and she hears nothing. She slowly uncoils. Her mouth is parched, so she sits up, slowly, pressing a hand to her side, grateful for the dull ache rather than the sharp pain she’d been dreading. She fumbles for where she’d left the bottle of water.

Instead, the bottle is placed into her reaching hand. She grasps it automatically and then, as realisation hits, lets it go with a shriek, shuffling backwards.

“It’s all right,” a female voice says calmly. “I won’t hurt you.”

Kala looks up. A young woman—Korean, she thinks, somewhere in the back of her mind—is sitting opposite her, regarding her calmly, her eyes compassionate. Kala doesn’t know how she can be sure, but she believes the woman means her no harm. Kala looks around. Everything else is the same. The dim light from a bulb somewhere above in a hidden recess, the locked cell door, the bucket in the far corner.

The Korean woman is dressed in a business suit and looks like she should be in a boardroom, not sitting cross-legged in a cave. Kala recognises her as one of the spirits she saw earlier, when she was hovering outside of her own body. Kala feels hysteria starting to constrict her chest, making it hard to breathe. Is this all some trick being played by her damaged brain? Or is she just losing her mind as a result of her captivity, her torture?

“You’re not going crazy,” the woman says soothingly.

Kala takes a slow, careful breath, then another. “I’m not? Then who are you?”

“Ah, this will be hard to explain.”

“I’m listening.”

“My name is Sun. And I am not really a spirit, but I am also not really here.”

“So, I am going crazy.” Kala drags her fingers through her hair and grabs hold of handfuls, pulling hard. At least the pain is real.

“No. You aren’t.”

“Please stop,” another voice says, and Kala looks up to see another woman standing to the side, looking down at her, her mouth pursed with concern. A white woman, blonde with blue streaks through her hair, standing where no one had been standing a moment before. Kala whimpers. “You’re not going crazy, we promise,” the woman says urgently. “And we will explain everything, I promise. But first, you need to tell us who you are, and what’s happened to you, so we can find you.”

“Find me?” If only she could think clearly. Her head is pounding.

“ _After_ you have something to eat and drink. You will feel better once you no longer feel so faint.” The Korean woman holds out the bottle of water again. Kala takes it with a sense of unreality. She does need to hydrate. And when the blonde woman hands her one of the remaining burgers, she takes that too. Whether she is insane or whether the women are here by some magic, she still needs energy.

Kala focuses on forcing the food down her, even though the vada pav is stale and mushy now in a way that she would have found inedible only a few days ago. She’s aware that the spirits are still there, watching her, and when she takes a swig of water to wash down the final bite, she sees that a third woman has joined them, another white woman with long hair.

Kala screws the cap securely back onto the bottle and puts it down beside the mattress. “My name is Kala Rasal,” she tells them.

“I’m Nomi. It’s very good to meet you. Now, what happened to you?”

“I was kidnapped some days ago, I don’t know how long exactly.”

“Do you know where you are?”

Kala shakes her head, tears welling up. She takes a deep breath. “I think, not too far from Bombay? I can’t be sure, they put a hood over my head, but I don’t think we travelled too far.”

“Those burgers came from a local fast food chain. They do have some outlets in other locations, but it’s promising.”

“Are you in Bombay?”

“No, I’m in Paris, actually.”

The cave disappears. Kala is standing in a cosy room, looking at Nomi. Nomi’s sitting on a sofa in front of a laptop, wearing a headset. Her feet are propped in the lap of a gorgeous black woman with multi-coloured dreadlocks who is looking intently at her own laptop screen. Behind them, out of the window, Kala can see the Eiffel Tower in the distance. “We moved here after we got married.” She holds up her hand to show off her ring, smiling proudly. The other woman is wearing a matching a ring, Kala notices.

She blinks and she’s back in the cave, looking at Nomi smiling at her. “What just happened?”

“It’s called visiting, and we’ll tell you all about it after you’ve told us anything that you can think of that can help us find you. For instance, do you have any idea could have done this and why?”

“Where to start,” Kala sighs.

“That sounds ominous.”

“My husband testified against an old friend of his in a trial about political corruption. But that was over two years ago. Ajay is in prison now.”

“On it,” Nomi says, briskly.

“Also, my father-in-law is a very important man in the government. He has a lot of enemies, especially some religious extremists. Assassins made an attempt on his life a few years ago.”

“Okay,” Nomi says. Kala has a sense of her sitting on her sofa, tapping away at her keyboard.

“Anything else?” The woman with the blue streaks in her hair asks gently. Kala looks up at her. “I’m Riley,” she adds with a little wave.

“Are you in Paris too?”

“No, actually. Me and Will are in Chicago right now, visiting friends.”

Kala just nods. It’s overwhelming. If only her head would stop pounding. She’s been prone to headaches since the coma, but nothing like this.

“Anything else you can think of that can help us?”

Oh my God. The bottom drops out of her stomach.

“What is it?”

“Three and a half years ago, just after I married Rajan, I was in an accident on my way to work. A van ploughed into the side of the car. My driver was killed, and I was in a coma for two months. Rajan insisted it must have been an accident, but when I came home from the hospital we had security guards and a new security system installed.”

“Okay, good. I mean, not good, but it’s something more to go on.”

Kala presses her palms against her eyes. Her skull feels like it’s splitting into pieces.

“She’s in pain,” a new voice says gruffly, and she squints up to see a man, dressed only in loose sweatpants looking down at her, his brows drawn together. He looks angry, but she can sense only concern emanating from him.

“We know, Wolfgang, but time is of the essence.”

“She can’t tell you anything else. Not now, anyway.”

Kala’s grateful for this new spirit’s interruption. All she wants to do is curl up under the blanket and close her eyes.

The new spirit crouches in front of her. “Will you let me help you with the pain?”

“Could you?”

He moves behind her and she’s aware of him settling into a seated position. Then there are gentle fingers massaging her temples, seeking out points of pain and pressing gently. The kindness makes her eyes sting with tears again. She opens her eyes to find the other spirits have disappeared.

“What—”

“They’ll be back,” the voice says behind her. “They’re looking for you.”

“How?” The fingers are massaging their way down towards her neck, applying pressure to the kinks that have plagued her since the first night attempting to sleep using only her bent arm as a pillow. They dig into a particularly hard knot and Kala groans appreciatively as she feels the knot give way.

“Almost everything is on the internet if you know where to look, and Nomi’s the best. The others are utilising other resources. We’ll find you.”

“But you’re all so far away.” Kala has decided that for the time being she’s going to believe that these spirits can indeed help her, that she’s not actually as alone and abandoned as she’s been feeling since the first days trapped down here.

“I’m coming for you.”

“You are?”

“I’m on my way to the airport right now.”

 

Kala looks at the man sitting next to her, smiling. Outside the taxicab, rain is sheeting against the car windows. The driver says something about having to take a different route. He’s speaking German, she realises, but she can understand him. She can still feel the spirit’s hands on her shoulders massaging away her pain. “See?” he says.

It’s too much to take in right now. “You’re Wolfgang?”

He nods. His smile is reassuring. Kala wishes she could stay here forever, with this smiling man, away from the terrible prison she’s been locked in for so long.

She thinks of the men who took her. There were six that she saw. What if there were more? Suddenly she’s afraid for this stranger. “You’re just one man.”

Wolfgang shakes his head gently. “I’m not just one man,” he says. “And we have eyes on the ground right now in Bombay and nearby cities. Others of our kind that we can contact for help.”

 

They’re back in the cell again, but Kala finds herself not caring very much. The massage has loosened up the locked muscles in her neck and shoulders, and her headache has receded. Her body still aches from the spasms earlier, but she thinks she might be able to sleep now.

“Better?”

“Much, thank you. You’re very good at that.”

“I used to do it for my mother,” he murmurs, and for a moment she feels his love, his nostalgia, his grief, and she finds tears starting yet again in her own eyes.

“Hopefully the headache will be gone when you wake up, at least mostly,” he says more briskly. “Since the cluster’s bond is already strongly formed. At least that’s theory. When it happened to us, we had migraines for days.”

“When what happened?”

“Being born,” another voice says, and Kala opens her eyes to see Riley sitting beside her, regarding her solemnly. Very slowly, Riley reaches out and brushes the hair that’s fallen across Kala’s face back behind her ears. Kala finds even that small gesture comforting, as though she’s not alone, that there are people that for some inexplicable reason, care about her.

“I don’t understand.”

“Later,” Wolfgang says flatly. “She needs to sleep now.”

“Yes, of course.”

Kala makes herself pull away from the hands still resting on her shoulders. She lies down and pulls the thin blanket around herself, shivering despite herself at the chill in the air that she’d managed to forget about for a while.

“Will you let us keep you warm?” Riley asks softly.

“I would like that.”

Another male body not her husband’s, embraces her from behind, the length of his body against hers, his arm resting along her side. She shouldn’t allow it, she knows, but she’s so cold, so alone, and it’s not like he’s real even though she can feel the heat of his body already warming her. Then Riley crawls over to lie in front of her, reaching over her to embrace Wolfgang. Wolfgang moves his arm so that he’s embracing Riley in return. Between the two of them, she’s warm for the first time in days, for what seems like years. As her headache recedes further, lying there, Wolfgang’s breath on her neck, the warm peppermint scented exhalations from Riley wafting gently across her cheek, she realises something else.

The grey fog that’s been lurking in the corner of her mind for so long, the grey fog that the doctors were at a loss to explain, is gone. For the first time since before the accident Kala feels like herself again, whole again. The relief is so overwhelming that she can’t help the tears that escape. Then soft hands are cradling her cheeks, brushing away her tears, and she looks into the gold-brown eyes so close to hers. “You’ll never be alone again,” Riley says, and it sounds like a promise. Kala nods shakily. She closes her eyes and allows herself to relax, finally. Riley starts to sing something that sounds like a lullaby, her voice low and soothing, and Kala falls asleep to images of walking along a beach with black sand, rugged up warm against the icy wind, at peace.

 

As she drifts into wakefulness, she becomes reluctant to open her eyes. Maybe it had all been a dream, but she doesn’t want to let go of the protective sensations that enveloped her: warmth and safety and love.

She barely notices the headache, it seems mostly gone now, as promised. More importantly, the grey fog is still absent. It’s that fact that gives her the courage to open her eyes, to face the day, because even if she’s alone, if everything else was a figment of her imagination, she feels like herself again.

She is alone. Kala takes a deep breath and forces down the disappointment. She rises, uses the bucket in the corner, then returns to her sleeping area to begin stretching exercises. She’s not going to let her muscles tighten up again.

She senses another presence and looks up to see Sun beside her in a short singlet top and yoga pants. Sun is also stretching with purpose, and Kala finds herself instinctively following the movements as though she’s been studying tai chi for years. Sun smiles at her, and suddenly Kala is standing on the roof of a tall building. It’s night-time. Kala looks with awe at the city lights stretching out all around her. They’re beautiful. The wide sky and the fresh air are liberating after the suffocating confines of her gloomy prison. Kala returns Sun’s smile, realising with a sharp pang that it’s the first time she’s smiled since she was taken.

She turns into a sweeping move and between one blink and the next she’s surrounded. She recognises the women, and Wolfgang, but there are three other spirits she doesn't know. They smile reassuringly at her as she stares at them, wide-eyed. She can feel them, feel what they are feeling: peace, and warmth, and a sense of protectiveness that she realises is directed towards her.

There’s a clattering noise and Kala is standing alone in the room as the cell door swings open. She quells the instinctive urge to step back. It’s one of her captors. He looks through her, as though she’s of no importance. She relaxes slightly. She prefers him to the ones that look at her with hot, greedy eyes. She’s not safe with them. If whoever or whatever is holding their leash lets go, they will come for her, she knows it. She shivers.

The man throws another bag of food towards her and she reaches forward to catch it. It’s still warm and she finds herself thankful for that fact. She hugs the warmth to her as he turns and lifts another carton of water into the cell. That, he leaves by the door. He steps back and locks the door again behind him without uttering a single word to her.

“At least they’re still feeding you, that’s good,” a new voice says, and she turns to see one of the men from the city rooftop looking at her.

“I guess.”

“Same takeout place as before, could mean it’s local.”

“There are many of them, all over Bombay and even some beyond.”

“Still, it’s something we can work with.”

“Is Wolfgang here?” she finds herself asking. She can almost still feel him, phantom-like, embracing her.

The new guy’s eyes lose focus for a moment, then he smiles. “He’s on the plane,” he said. “Sleeping.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Kala nods to herself. “Sleep is good.”

“We’ve learned to sleep when we can.”

“Are your lives so very dangerous?”

“Not anymore. For a while there, though, yeah.”

“And you are?”

“Oh sorry, I’m Will.”

“Are there many more of you?”

“There are many like us, all over the world.” Will nods at the bag in her arms. “You should eat while it’s still warm.”

Kala had forgotten about it. She sits down on the mattress. “And will they all be paying me a visit?” she asks as she takes out a warm vada pav. After this, she thinks she’ll be happy if she never eats another one of them again, but now she’s grateful for it. It’s healthy and filling.

“Oh, no. Just our cluster for now. Not sure who you’ve spoken to already, but there are eight of us in total, including you.”

“Me?” Kala says, through a mouthful of the roll. She puts her free hand up to cover her mouth as she speaks.

“We’ll explain everything,” Nomi says, appearing in front of her out of thin air. She kneels in front of Kala and stares intently at her. Kala stops chewing. “Kala, do you trust Rajan?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? Consider carefully.”

Why are they asking her this? Have they found something out about Rajan? She forces herself to think about everything she knows about her husband, about his beliefs, his actions. Rajan has been a wonderful husband, even more so since the coma, attentive and committed to her recovery. And when she’d been ready to go back to work, he’d been nothing but supportive, even promoting her when she’d been ready. The only thing she can think of that reflects badly on him at all was when he was selling the expired drugs. But when she had confronted him about it, he had realised his actions were wrong and had immediately stopped. Unless that was a lie?

No, she doesn’t believe it. Rajan is devoted to her. He’s never given her any cause to doubt him. “I trust my husband,” she says firmly.

“All right, then.”

“Why are you asking me this?"

“Because Wolfgang’s plane touches down in an hour,” Will says. “He’s going to meet Rajan, find out what he knows and either beat the shit out of him or enlist his help.”

“No, please don’t hurt him.” Kala stretches out her hand towards Will pleadingly.

Her hand is taken by Riley, who gives it a gentle squeeze. “Wolfgang is _not_ going to hurt Rajan,” she says reassuringly. “He’s just going to find out what he knows.”

 

While she eats, Nomi and Will tell her a fantastical tale about an advanced human species—of which she too is one, they claim—whose members had been hunted for years by a ruthless medical corporation to be used as guinea pigs in scientific experiments. Their scientists had been trying to find a way to become immortal, but their experiments had left their subjects in a vegetative state.

Nomi and Will describe how confused and terrified they’d been, to have discovered each other only to find themselves hunted, how they’d managed to fight back and, with the help of other sensates, finally bring down the ringleaders.

Kala’s accident has one silver lining—by not being ‘born’ when the others were, she has escaped that persecution. Now this medical corporation is run by benevolent scientists and work to help... “What did you say this species is called again?”

_“Homo sensorium.”_

_“And these homo sensorium_ are psychically linked?”

“Yes.”

“And you three are… _homo sensorium too?”_

“We just call ourselves sensates, but yes.”

“Interesting,” Kala says, after a while, when they appear to be waiting for her to say something else.

“You don’t believe us,” Will says.

“Well, no. Sorry,” Kala says, feeling a bit silly apologising to the figments of her imagination.

“Why would she?” Nomi says. “I know I felt like I was going crazy first, until Jonas explained what was going on.”

“As did I,” yet another voice chimes in. Kala looks up to see a very handsome Latino man hovering behind the women. “What with the overwhelming emotions I couldn’t control—”

“Because you’re normally so chill,” Nomi says dryly.

“—and strangers looking back at me in the mirror, I was freaking out.”

“And you’re helping me because you think I’m one of these sensates too?”

“Not just because you’re a sensate. Because you’re part of our cluster.”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t experienced anything like you describe.”

“Ta da!” the Latino man exclaims, gesturing to include all of the visitors. “Hello,” he adds, with a friendly smile. “I’m Lito, and this is Capheus,” he says, nodding towards yet another man who is now standing off to the side. He’s dressed in a sharp business suit, as though he’s very important, but he’s beaming from ear to ear, and radiates friendliness and good will.

“Hello, Kala,” Capheus says. “We are all very happy to meet you at last.”

“How did you know about me, if I’ve just been born?” Kala asks hesitatingly. It sounds so ridiculous that she’s starting to believe it, if only because she doesn’t think she’s capable of imagining something so implausible.

“Glad you asked,” Nomi says briskly. “We became aware of your existence when they used the stun gun on you. The shockwave echoed through our bond.”

“You all felt it too?”

“We did,” Capheus nods, solemn now. “It was lucky that I was alone in my office when it happened. Once, when Sun was being strangled, I was driving the Van Damn.”

 

And for a moment Kala is living the memory, sitting in the passenger seat of a bus, watching Capheus gasp for air, watching his friend desperately calling to him, finding it hard to breathe herself.

“I was lucky I didn’t crash,” Capheus is saying as she blinks back into the dim cave, her heart racing.

She forces herself to take calming breaths. “This is extremely disconcerting.”

“You are actually a really unusual case,” Nomi says. “We had to check with the Lacuna—basically the ones in charge who know all this shit. Sometimes clusters are incomplete because one or more of the members don’t live long enough to be born, but occasionally it’s because something prevents the connection from forming properly, like severe mental illness, or something physical.” Nomi pauses. “Like a coma.”

Kala stares at her. “Since the coma, there’s been a sort of grey fog, in the corner of my mind. The doctors didn’t know what to make of it.”

“And now?”

“It’s gone.”

“That’s good,” Capheus says.

“The Lacuna think that the bond couldn’t form properly when you were unconscious. It needed something like an electric shock to activate it.”

Capheus beams. “Like a jump start.”

There’s the sound of distant cheering and a voice says urgently, “Capheus, you’re up.”

“Got to go, sorry,” Capheus says, smiling apologetically. He disappears.

It’s too much. She wants to believe, so much. She wants to not be alone in this cave, at the mercy of evil men. She wants a group of strangers from around the world to be coming to save her. It all feels so real. Is she completely mad?

Nomi reaches out slowly, as if worried about frightening her, giving Kala every chance to pull away. Kala watches as Nomi’s hand closes over her own. It’s so warm. She looks up at the other woman’s face and she can feel her concern, and Kala doesn’t care anymore if it’s not real. She swallows hard against the urge to break down in tears again, because if she starts, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop.

“Oh hey, hey,” Will says soothingly, crouching beside her. He puts a comforting hand on her back. Kala finds herself leaning towards him, and then they are all reaching for her: Nomi and Will and even Lito is kneeling down, wrapping his long arms around them all. Kala can feel their protectiveness, their concern, and an all-encompassing communal love. She lets herself fall into the sensation. For the first time since she’d been kidnapped, she doesn’t feel afraid.

 

Sun is with her now; the others have gone back to their lives. They’re taking turns, she realises, making sure she’s never alone. She loves them all for that. Sun is explaining the difference between ‘visiting’ and ‘sharing’ and how the sensates can actually be in two places at once, when Wolfgang appears. Kala feels a thrill go through her at the sight of him. It must be because he’s helping her.

“I’m with Rajan,” he says. “He doesn’t believe me.”

“Understandable,” Sun murmurs.

“Tell me something that only you and Rajan would know.”

Kala searches her mind, biting her lip in concentration. Wolfgang is looking at her expectantly. “Um, I don’t really like oysters.” Rajan had ordered them on their honeymoon. Kala had never tried them before and he had laughed at her doubtful expression, teased her gently about the way her nose wrinkled up.

There’s a pause and then Wolfgang shakes his head. “Something else, something personal.”

Kala racks her brain. As much as she loves her life with Rajan, right now she can’t think of anything particularly special that would prove beyond doubt that it is really her.

Of course. The moment that she had decided that she would marry him. The moment she had realised that she did feel something for Rajan, something she thought could grow into love—and she’d been right.

 

There’s an instant of disorientation as her view shifts, and now she’s somehow standing in front of Rajan. Rajan is looking torn. How can he believe such a preposterous story? She reaches out, watching her pale, masculine hands come to rest against Rajan’s chest. “My husband,” she says, wonderingly. Rajan had been stepping back from her touch, his brows drawn together distrustfully, but at her words he stops, his eyes widening, searching her eyes as she continues: “Before we were married,” she says softly, “you told me that we came from separate worlds, but that the only world you want to live in is one where we can be together.”

“Kala, oh my God,” Rajan exclaims, and he covers her hands with his own and lifts them to his lips, pressing desperate kisses upon them. She drinks in the sight of him greedily. He looks terrible, as though he hasn’t slept for a week. There are dark bags under his eyes and his hair is in a state of disorder unlike his usual carefully styled waves, as though he’s been clutching handfuls of it.

She parts her lips to say something and her view shifts again. She’s bemused for a moment until she realises she’s standing next to her husband, who’s now gripping tightly the hands of a man who is a stranger to him.

“I’m here, my love,” Kala says, but Rajan doesn’t react. Rajan can neither see nor hear her.

 

Wolfgang takes a step back, pulling his hands free. “She’s standing here, now,” Wolfgang says, nodding his head towards her.

Rajan turns his head towards her, his eyes searching. Kala’s heart breaks for him at how desperate he must be to be prepared to even give this strange German man the benefit of the doubt over such an impossibility.

“Are you well, my love? Have they hurt you?”

“I’m all right for now,” she says. “I don’t understand what’s happening? Why did they take me?”

“She wants to know why she was kidnapped,” Wolfgang says to Rajan.

“There are people who are not happy that our company has stopped shipping out-of-date drugs to other countries. They’d been receiving substantial kickbacks, you see. They want me to agree to start selling them again.”

“Oh, no.”

“Of course, I said yes, anything to get you back safely, thinking we could deal with the issue later. They said they I would get you back once the first shipment left, with the understanding that if I broke the agreement or went to the police, they would kill you.”

Kala finds herself standing in front of Rajan, her hand raised to touch his face. Her hand touches air. The sight of her fingers disappearing into his cheek startles her. “No,” she whispers, and then she is sitting on her mattress again.

“It’s okay,” Wolfgang says, next to her. “Our people put the word out, now we know who and why you were taken, it won’t be long till we find out where you are.”

Wolfgang disappears. “Please hurry,” Kala whispers.

 

Kala hugs her knees to her chest and tries not to obsessively listen for any sound, any movement from outside her cell. She’s already bitten what was left of her nails down to the quick. Riley had been there for a while but had kept yawning. Apparently it was the early morning in Chicago, and she’d been up most of the night with Kala. Kala had finally urged her to get some sleep. She was all right, she’d insisted.

She isn’t all right. Her nerves are stretched. She’s afraid something will go wrong: they won’t be able to find her, they’ll be hurt or even killed trying to rescue her. Her mind is going around and around in circles, coming up with even more terrible scenarios, she’s going to scream in a minute—

“Hello, Kala.”

Kala looks up. Lito is sitting in front of her. He’s smiling—that must mean good news, right?

“Can you tell me what’s happening?” she asks.

Lito must hear the edge of hysteria in her voice, or perhaps he can feel it, because his smile fades. “Oh, hey,” he says and holds out his arms, leaning forward. “All is well,” he assures her, and Kala sags into his embrace because, for all he is a stranger, and a spirit, his arms are strong and comforting. Lito just holds her, rubbing her back gently.

After a few minutes, when she feels calmer, she takes a deep breath, and sits up, pulling away and putting a respectable distance between them.

For the first time, she notices that Lito is wearing only a full-length grey onesie. Somehow he still manages to look sexy.

“Thank you,” Lito smiles modestly.

“Do you know if they’ve found me?”

“They have, yes. They are on the way to your location now. You won’t have much longer to wait.”

Excitement leaps within her, but her stomach still aches with worry. “I am afraid something will go wrong,” she whispers.

“I understand,” Lito says. He pats her knee. “If I may suggest something to distract you?”

“I would like that.”

“If you would like, you could read lines with me.”

“Read lines?”

“For my new movie.”

“You’re an actor?”

“Yes I am.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t watch many foreign films.”

“That’s okay.” Lito holds out a script he hadn’t had a moment ago and offers it to her. Kala takes it, trying not to think about the fact that she can touch this, and Lito, but not Rajan.

Rajan. Kala swallows hard.

“You’ll see him soon,” Lito says and pats her hand. He nods towards the page in front of her. “Ready?”

Kala takes a deep breath and looks down at the page. “What do I do?”

 

They are rehearsing the film’s romantic climax for the third time, ‘David’ soulfully declaiming his devotion to ‘Eve’ as Kala turns her head away to stare dramatically over the balcony at the beach below. Moonlight shines across the waves and Kala can smell the fresh ocean air. In the back of her mind she’s willing Rajan to come, willing him to be safe, but Kala is calm; she has the taste of Paloma fresh in her mouth. She takes another sip of the cocktail.

The sound of distant gunshots catapults her abruptly back into her cell and she’s on her feet, staring at the cell door. On either side of her Riley and Nomi take her hands. She grasps their hands gratefully.

“They’re coming,” Riley says.

The wait seems interminable but finally Kala hears footsteps hurrying towards her. She nearly cries out when she sees Rajan’s drawn face, the way it lights up in relief when he sees her. She holds out her hands through the bars and Rajan clutches them tightly. “I knew you would come.”

“Oh, my love, I am so sorry it’s taken so long.”

Kala looks at Wolfgang beside them. He’s taken out a toolkit and is picking the lock.

“It’s what he does,” Lito says with a shrug, and Wolfgang looks up briefly to grin at Lito.

Then the door is swinging open and she’s in Rajan’s arms, finally. She clings to him, her face buried in his chest. Rajan is murmuring something, his tone reassuring. Her world is reduced to the sound of his voice as her heart rate slows and the tension she’s been under for so long starts to melt away. Rajan just holds her.

When she feels like she can talk without bursting into tears, Kala straightens and relaxes her grip. Rajan’s arms loosen enough for her to lean back. “I knew you would come,” she says again. Rajan just nods, his own eyes suspiciously damp.

Wolfgang puts a hand on her shoulder, and the heat of it jolts through her. She looks at him, startled. He blinks and then nods back towards the corridor. “We should go,” he says.

Kala catches his hand as it slips from her shoulder. “Wolfgang, thank you.”

“No problem,” he says dismissively, but he gives her hand a comforting squeeze.


	2. Chapter 2

Rajan won’t hear of Wolfgang leaving. “Our home is your home,” he declares. “You must stay, enjoy the sights of Bombay. Anything that is in my power to give you is yours.”

“Rajan, stop,” Kala murmurs, her hands half over her face. Wolfgang has a polite half smile on his face, but Kala can sense his discomfort at the attention.

“I’m serious,” Rajan says earnestly. “I can never repay my debt to you for saving my wife—my heart.”

Wolfgang takes a swig of beer. He’s lounging in the chair opposite, his legs casually splayed in that careless male European way. His jeans stretch tight across his thighs and his t-shirt is riding up slightly so that there’s a flash of pale skin when he lifts his arm to take a drink. Kala finds herself flushing—with embarrassment, she insists firmly to herself. Wolfgang winks at her knowingly. Kala crosses her legs defensively, ignoring the wash of heat over her skin. She glares at Wolfgang. No one mentioned there’d be other… effects… of the bond.

“I do have an ulterior motive,” Rajan confesses. “I would like to hear more about this sensate business, since my wife is apparently one?”

“Lucky for you she is, or we wouldn’t have found her.”

“Wolfgang,” Kala murmurs. She’s curled up on the sofa, Rajan’s arm protectively around her. She’s slept for more than 15 hours; she’s scrubbed herself in the shower till her skin is glowing and she finally feels clean and she’s put on in her most comfortable pyjamas.

She holds the warm teacup with both hands and sips her apple chai while Wolfgang explains about the _homo sensorium_ and this new world that she’s part of now.

“And you had no idea, Kala?”

“Not until I was given the electric shock.”

Rajan’s arm tightens around her. He feels terribly responsible for what happened to her, she knows. He can’t bear to let her out of his sight. “How horrible for you,” he says. “On top of everything else, to believe you may be going mad.”

“Yes,” she murmurs. “But—”

“But a blessing also, perhaps, to not be alone anymore.”

Rajan could be surprisingly insightful sometimes. His empathy is one of the things she loves most about him.

“He is a kind man,” Riley says, smiling gently down at them both.

“Yes,” Kala says, to them both.

 

Rajan wants Kala to rest, to take it easy, to recover from her ordeal. She’s convinced that it’s because he wants to keep her safely hidden away in their apartment, where his security personnel have every door and every window securely monitored. He still feels guilty that her kidnappers were able to get past her previous security detail.

At first Kala doesn’t mind. She’s glad of the chance to figure out how this whole new world of hers operates, and she does get to leave the apartment: she’s visited Nairobi, Paris, Seoul, Los Angeles, Chicago and even Reykjavik when Riley and Will went home to visit Riley’s father. She’s seen more of the world in the last few weeks than she had previously in her whole life. Her new cluster visit her, too. They pop in and out at will to offer advice and support.

They’re there, too, when she wakes from nightmares of being abandoned in the cave forever, or the man with the scar, begging not to be shocked again, or, somehow worst of all, the visceral horror of the lascivious glances of the guards. Her cluster hold her when she shakes, they tell her stories about their lives or about their world until she’s calm again. They stay with her until she can fall asleep. She’s grateful to them.

Unlike the rest of her cluster, Wolfgang seems to be around most of the time. Wolfgang is still staying with them, ostensibly for the foreseeable future. Rajan has offered him a job as his chief of security and Wolfgang has accepted.

“Don’t you want to go back to your own life in Berlin?” she’d asked him, when Rajan had beamingly announced the new arrangement, sure that his decision would make Kala happy, to have one of ‘her people’ around her.

Wolfgang had shaken his head, his lips pressed together for a moment. “Nope,” he said. “Felix has everything under control at the club. He loves all that shit, bossing people around.”

“That settles it,” Rajan had announced, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.

“Hmm,” Kala had responded. She’s not quite comfortable around Wolfgang ‘in the flesh’ as it were. Spirit Wolfgang was a comfort, a support... a lifeline. Real Wolfgang takes up all the space in the room. He looks at her with intense blue eyes that seem to see right inside her, see the Kala she doesn’t show to the world: her insecurities about herself, about whether she fully recovered from the accident, whether she’d earned the promotion she’d recently been awarded or if it was given to her out of nepotism, or worse, out of pity.

Even her doubts about her marriage. Oh, not about her love for Rajan, that had grown with time as she’d believed it would: his kindness, his integrity, even his progressive beliefs. How could she not love such a wonderful man? But sometimes she feels trapped, like there is more to life than being the wife of Rajan Rasal, more to experience. And now this whole new world has opened up for her, has shown her that she’s right, and she feels guilty for that. She feels like she’s betraying Rajan for even thinking such thoughts. And the way Wolfgang watches her with that smirk of his, as though he knows exactly what she’s thinking. It makes her want to scream.

Because, God forgive her, she finds him attractive.

When he stands close to her, she feels breathless and giddy and like a girl again, not a respectably married woman. When his eyes rove over her, she feels the touch of them caressing her skin so strongly that she’s wondered if he actually was touching her, if this is a facet of the sensate experience that no one’s told her about. When she’d brought herself to ask Riley, Riley had shaken her head. At which point Will had looked up from his laptop and grinned and said, “we should probably tell her about the orgies.” She assumes—hopes—they were joking about that.

  Apart from the way he looks at her, though, Wolfgang has been a perfect gentleman. _Until now._

 

She comes home from a shopping trip with friends one afternoon to a silent apartment. Rajan had been talking to Wolfgang at breakfast about going to a business meeting in Thana. Kala hadn’t been paying much attention; she’d assumed Wolfgang would go with him. Wolfgang and Rajan seemed to be inseparable these days. Kala’s not sure how she feels about that.

Kala’s hot and sticky from the heat and the crowd at the market. She’s craving the coolness of fresh water over her skin, so she goes to take a shower. She’s humming to herself, enjoying the water pressure against her shoulders and her scalp. She washes the shampoo from her hair and then opens her eyes.

 

Wolfgang is standing there in the shower stall with her. Kala screams and instinctively attempts to cover herself, her face hot with embarrassment. Wolfgang disappears, but not before she sees the smile fall from his face.

When she emerges from her room, fully dressed and boiling with rage, ready to order him to pack his bags and leave, she finds him sitting on the edge of the armchair, his hands clasped together in front of him, his body hunched defensively. The words die on her lips, even as he looks up at her, his eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” he says. “Sometimes we find ourselves ‘visiting’ without meaning to.”

Kala sinks down onto the sofa opposite him. “This is not okay,” she says sternly, even as she wonders if she has a choice. Is she to expect visits from the other members of her cluster when she’s in the shower? On the toilet?

“Not usually, not without a good reason, anyway.”

“What was your good reason just then?”

 

There’s that odd wrench of displacement she’s felt once before, and then she’s slouched on her bed, idly watching the finale of a German talent show on her laptop. She hears the shower start and her mind drifts. She’s wondering what the person in the shower looks like, the water cascading down their body, the soap sliding over their skin. Her hand drifts down to cup the swelling in her groin….

 

“Stop!” she says out loud, and she’s back in her own body, heat pooling between her own thighs. She presses her knees together and puts her hands to her face, feels the burning of her cheeks against the coolness of her palms. “I’m a married woman,” she says wildly.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” By the glint in his eyes she suspects Wolfgang knows exactly what just happened to her and is amused by her response. Well, why wouldn’t he, even without their bond he is a worldly man; of course none of this fazes him at all.

“This can’t happen again!”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Why not?”

“Sometimes I forget that you’re still very new to this. To us. You’ll get used to it.”

“I’m not sure I want to get used to it.” She gestures between them. “To this.”

“I can promise to be more careful when you are in the shower and when you and Rajan are…” Wolfgang winks. “You know.”

“What?”

Wolfgang leans forward. “The walls of the apartment aren’t very thick,” he says apologetically.

“Oh my God!” Kala puts her hands over face again; her cheeks are so hot it’s a wonder they don’t catch fire.

When Rajan had tentatively initiated sex for the first time after the doctor had pronounced her recovered, she’d been self-conscious. Not unwilling, but she’d been very aware that Wolfgang’s room was right next door, that he might be awake. Rajan had assured her that they’d be very quiet, and they had been, for the most part. She’d been unable to help little cries escaping towards the end, but Rajan had put his hand over her mouth, gently but firmly, and she’d gasped under his hand, her arousal spiking higher and higher. Rajan had picked up his pace, thrusting into her so hard the headboard had banged against the wall, and they’d neither of them cared. “Wow,” Rajan had murmured, afterwards, panting against her neck, and she’d had to agree.

“Just don’t do it again. Any of it!” she says finally and flees the room, leaving an inappropriately amused looking Wolfgang behind her.

 

When she suggests casually over dinner that Wolfgang might like to find his own apartment now that he knows his way around the city and is familiar with how everything works, Rajan give her a puzzled look. “Is there a problem?”

Kala cannot bring herself to tell him the truth. Wolfgang is tucking into the Dal Makhani she’d cooked, but now he looks up, biting into a pappadum, his eyebrows raised in apparently innocent enquiry. Kala shoots him a glare.

“No disrespect to Wolfgang, but I miss having our home to ourselves,” she says. “I see less of you these days. You’re always at work or with Wolfgang.” She knows that isn’t fair as she says it. The men who kidnapped her are all dead or in police custody, but they suspect the conspiracy goes higher than that. Rajan and Wolfgang are working with the Intelligence Bureau to find the ringleaders. It weighs on Rajan, that he’s having to go through all this a second time. She sees it in the slump of his shoulders as he comes through the front door of an evening, the way his smile is sometimes slow to emerge when he first sees her, as though his mind is elsewhere.

Not now, though. His face brightens and breaks out into that infectious smile she so loves. “That reminds me. Wolfgang has found us a local football team to join. Isn’t that great? You’re always telling me I need to exercise more for my health. I haven’t played since I was a boy at school. I never seemed to have the time once I was working full time.”

Kala smiles weakly and bends her head over her meal. There’s a sudden hollowness in her stomach that she recognises as jealousy, and she forces away the unworthy feeling.

“You do raise a good point, though,” Rajan says thoughtfully. “Wolfgang, if you wish to continue with the company once this distasteful business is concluded and we are certain that Kala is safe, we should really draw up a proper contract and find you a decent place of your own.”

“I’ll think about it,” Wolfgang says blandly.

 

It’s been three weeks, and Kala is more than ready to return to work. The doctor confirms that she is physically recovered from her captivity, and after she tells them that the grey fog appears to have gone, they run another MRI. The scan comes back clear. The doctors are cautiously optimistic but warn against assuming that she is no longer susceptible to seizures. She feels better than she has since before her accident. Mentally, she’s fine, really she is. Rajan had wanted her to make an appointment to see the best therapist in Bombay, but what does she need a therapist for when she has a support group of seven people, available 24/7, who understands more about what’s going on with her than a standard therapist ever could?

She’s bored with shopping and visiting family. She wants to be doing meaningful work again. When she mentions this, Rajan, to Kala’s annoyance, glances over at Wolfgang. Wolfgang shrugs.

“Are you sure, Kala?” Rajan says doubtfully. “We wouldn’t want you to have a setback by doing too much too soon.”

Kala bites her lip to stop herself asking Rajan why he is consulting Wolfgang about matters that are not his business, because this is why Rajan invited Wolfgang into their lives in the first place, isn’t it? To protect Kala. To keep her safe. Apparently, this now extends to her health.

She thinks about all the times Wolfgang’s brought her a cup of chai, or medication, or something else she’s wanted without her even asking for it. Sometimes even before she’s been consciously aware that she’s needed it. Like that evening two nights ago after she’d slept wrong and the knots in her neck muscles were causing tension to radiate up into her skull. She’d been sitting reading a book and she’d felt warm hands slide around her neck, fingers digging in exactly where the pain was centred. Even if they hadn’t immediately hit the right spot, she would have instantly known that the hands belonged to Wolfgang and not her husband. The shimmer of heat that had trailed along her skin had been the same, but Wolfgang’s touch is recognisably different to Rajan’s. More assertive.

Of course Rajan’s noticed. No wonder he’s been checking with Wolfgang. He has his own personal Kala Health Monitor. For a moment she feels anger rising in her at their presumption but then Rajan exchanges another glance with Wolfgang and they start to look concerned, and the anger drains away. If it’s presumption, it’s born out of love for her. Rajan’s devotion she’s never doubted, but she can feel that Wolfgang cares about her too, and it’s not just the sensate bond, there’s something more there.

 He’s attracted to _her_ and if she’s being completely honest with herself, it’s not one-sided. It’s as if there’s something pulling them together, something within them calling to each other. Kala’s been ignoring it as much as she can, putting it down to his close proximity—if Wolfgang wasn’t always there, wasn’t always taking care of her, their bond wouldn’t be any different to the one between the other cluster members. Kala shies away from thinking too deeply about Will and Riley and the way their love for one another glows fiercely even within the larger bond.

She and Wolfgang aren’t like that. They can’t be like that. She loves Rajan. She’s loyal to Rajan, who’s been nothing but devoted to her all these years and trusts and believes in her implicitly. These last few weeks have proven that without a doubt. How many men would be able to accept that their wife has seven other soulmates—literal ones—and even welcome one into his home because he believes it would be of benefit to his wife?

 

One evening they are sitting out on the balcony diwan after a dinner that Wolfgang and Rajan had cooked together while Kala called her grandmother to wish her a happy birthday and caught up on all the family news. She and Rajan have consumed nearly two bottles of a very good Grover Zampa shiraz between them. God knows how many bottles of beer Wolfgang’s gone through. Kala cuddles up against Rajan’s chest. She’s feeling relaxed and mellow and it seems natural to stretch out her legs and drape them over Wolfgang’s thighs.

Wolfgang doesn’t appear to react as he takes a swig from his beer bottle. After a few minutes though, his free hand drops to her bare leg. He runs his fingers lightly along the length of her calf, leaving a trail of heat, before his hand closes lightly around her ankle. She’s blushing, caught between arousal and embarrassment. She thinks Rajan must have noticed her response, but he doesn’t say anything. Perhaps he doesn’t think anything of it. Because he trusts her.

“My husband?” she says musingly.

“Yes, my wife?”

“When Wolfgang came to you that first day, what was it he said that made you believe such a fantastical story?”

“Ah,” Rajan says. He falls silent “You must remember, I was desperate,” he says, finally. “I was going along with their demands merely with the hope that they would keep their word and let you go, all the while knowing that it would not be the end of their demands. But I had no leads, no idea of their identity, no idea of your location. You can only imagine how I felt.”

Kala can imagine how she would feel if their situations had been reversed. She hugs the arm Rajan is resting lightly around her closer to her chest. She looks over at Wolfgang. He’s put down his beer bottle and now he’s resting both hands on her calves in silent support.

“Then this strange, dangerous-looking German fellow arrived with this unbelievable story about having a psychic connection to you. He described what you were wearing… the conditions they were keeping you in. He even provided a description of the men holding you, and the one in charge with the terrible facial scar. It was all I could do not call the police then and there. But he insisted that he had a network of experts finding out how and where they were and that he was confident that you could be rescued.”

“So, it was desperation that made you go along with it?” Poor Rajan. What he’d gone through, not knowing what was happening to her, or even if she was still alive.

“No.” Rajan leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. His arm tightened around her. “This strange man walked up to me and took my hands and I heard your voice speak through him. I knew it was you, not just because he spoke perfect Hindi, but because the intonation was yours, and the look in his eyes… it was you looking back at me, I could feel it. If for no other reason than that moment, I am grateful that my wife turned out to be so much more than the woman I married.”

Kala swallows the lump in her throat. What did she ever do to deserve such a husband?

“Rajan,” Wolfgang says quietly. “You are a good man.”

 

Kala’s back at work now and it almost seems like the past few weeks were a dream, except that now she still comes home to two men to cook and eat dinner with, to talk over the day with, to relax with on the sofa, watching movies on the new giant screen Wolfgang bought them.

On cooler evenings they sit out on the balcony with a bottle of wine or two between them and do their own thing on their laptops. Wolfgang’s keeping in touch with Felix about his business affairs back in Berlin, but she knows his soul, knows that he doesn’t want to go back. He’s happy here, with Kala and Rajan, and although he doesn’t say it, and would deny it if challenged, he doesn’t want to leave them, leave their cosy domestic set up. It’s like nothing he’s known before and never knew he wanted. Occasionally Kala will look over to find him just watching her or Rajan as though he thinks they might disappear if he turns his back.

It actually doesn’t really sink in until she’s leaning in the doorway one evening, watching Wolfgang teach Rajan how to make some favourite German dessert from his childhood, one of his few happy memories. They’re both smiling, moving around each other in the kitchen with ease, seemingly free of personal boundaries.

Kala senses them before she sees them, Riley and Will standing on either side of her. They’re watching Wolfgang as he teases Rajan about something. He’s leaning over her husband’s shoulder, one hand resting in the small of Rajan’s back.

Riley and Will are both smiling gently. Their joy and their relief are tangible.

“He’s happy,” Will says, simply.


	3. Chapter 3

Wolfgang has always made himself scarce during their weekly family dinner. He’ll help with all the cooking, but once their families start arriving, he’ll disappear. When Rajan’s and Kala’s fathers inevitably start to bicker about politics or religion or an article in the newspaper that one of them has an opinion about, Kala tunes out. As often as not, she finds herself trailing along with Wolfgang. Sometimes he’ll mingle with tourists to visit the city’s attractions. Kala finds herself seeing the Gateway to India or one of the many temples through new eyes. Wolfgang’s eyes. Sometimes he merely wanders aimlessly about the city. He’s equally as likely to pick his way through the slums of Dharavi as through any of the busier shopping precincts.

Often though, Wolfgang ends up at one of the beaches. He takes his shoes and socks off and ambles along the water’s edge. The wet sand sinks beneath Kala’s feet and between her toes and the tide washes gently around her ankles as she nods along to whatever their parents are discussing. She returns Wolfgang’s smile, which is gentle in a way that’s unique to these moments, their hands finding each other and parting again. They are times of tranquillity away from the real world that Kala hoards to herself like precious gems.

 

“Kala, are you even listening to me?” her mother says one week, and she blinks, jolted away from a peaceful moment to find the whole family have stopped eating to watch her. She recognises the source of the concern on their faces with a guilty start.

“I’m okay,” she assures them. “It wasn’t a seizure. The doctors have confirmed that I am better now. I was just wool-gathering.”

Rajan places his hand over her own and clasps it. “My lovely wife is just tired,” he assures them. He smiles at her. “Isn’t that right?” There’s a hint of a question in his eyes, but he’s not concerned. He’s used to the way Kala and Wolfgang look when they go elsewhere in their minds.

Kala returns his smile. “I’m fine,” she assures him.

“Why does your handsome houseguest never join us for dinner, again?” Daya suddenly says, looking around as though Wolfgang might be hiding behind the diwan, or come strolling out onto the balcony at any moment.

It’s not the first time one of the family have asked that question. Rajan had laughed and asked them not to begrudge his chief of security a little time to himself. “We keep him so busy, you know.” When her mother had taken her aside and asked her if there wasn’t something a bit odd about the man, to be so unsocial, Lito had stepped in and hinted conspiratorially of a doomed romance, of a broken heart that had fled all the way to India to find peace. Kala had felt only a tiny bit guilty at the way her mother had soaked up the tale, visibly softening, and had promised not to bother him with invitations. In the back of her mind, Kala had been aware of Wolfgang’s amusement.

Kala sighs, reluctant to have to lie to her family again. Wolfgang is essentially part of their household now. Rajan loves having him there. Even her family has accepted it. And Kala can’t imagine, now, going back to the way things were before. Not that she hadn’t been happy. A fulfilling career, a handsome and kind husband; how could she have believed that life could hold anything more? How could she have imagined that her world could be filled with even more colour, more adventure? More love.

“Kala?”

She sees Rajan shift, sees him start to open his mouth, to make yet another excuse.

 

“I’ll come,” Wolfgang says, and Kala’s sitting on a boulder overlooking a waterfall.

Kala looks around. “This is Yeoor Waterfall, yes? I haven’t been here since I was a child.”

“I’ll come,” Wolfgang says. “I’ll meet your family.”

Our family, Kala thinks, unexpectedly. She smiles at Wolfgang. It feels right.

Wolfgang’s answering smile is oddly shy.

They sit shoulder to shoulder, and soak in the peaceful surroundings.

 

Kala smiles at her sister. “I’ll invite him to come next week, okay?”

Rajan’s mouth closes again. Kala looks at him and shrugs. Rajan’s brow clears and he nods understandingly.

 

Wolfgang is nervous as they prepare for the arrival. He moves to stir the dhal yet again. Kala feels his worry almost as if it were own. “Do not be concerned,” she says softly, placing her hand over Wolfgang’s on the spoon, and then taking it in her own when he releases it. Wolfgang ducks his head sheepishly.

Rajan opens a new bottle of beer and holds it out, clapping Wolfgang on the shoulder when he takes it from him. Rajan’s eyes follow the way Wolfgang tilts the bottle back to swallow several mouthfuls. “Just be yourself,” he says. “Our families will no doubt ask you many questions about yourself. It is our way.”

Kala feels the spike in Wolfgang’s adrenalin in her own chest. “You’re not on trial here, Wolfgang. Our families will love you, but even if they do not, it is of no matter.” She hesitates, but the warmth in Rajan’s eyes as he regards them both feels like permission. “Because we do.”

Wolfgang looks between them. Kala doesn’t need to a psychic bond to tell that he’s at a loss for words. His eyes shine and he blinks rapidly.

Kala speaks for us both,” Rajan assures him gently. “You are our family, too.”

 

The family do, in fact, have many questions for Wolfgang. A white European man who speaks perfect Hindi and who seems completely at home within the Rasal household is, of course, the subject of much speculation.

Wolfgang answers questions about his background as a locksmith and about his job as Rajan’s chief of security. It’s not until Daya asks him how he came to take the job that they realise that they’ve forgotten to mention one important fact.

“As a matter of fact, Wolfgang’s expertise was instrumental in finding Kala and in her rescue,” Rajan says, putting down his spoon and looking warmly at Wolfgang.

There’s a collective gasp from around the table. Kala’s mother actually reaches out and grasps Wolfgang’s wrist for a moment. “You saved our daughter.”

“It is a debt we can never repay,” Kala’s father says earnestly. Kala’s abduction has aged him. She clasps her hands together in her lap to stop herself reaching out to smooth away the lines of worry that hadn’t been there a few months ago.

Wolfgang looks uncomfortable. “It’s what I do,” he mutters.

After that revelation, Wolfgang can obviously do no wrong, and when it becomes clear that the personal questions are making him uncomfortable, they diplomatically turn the conversation to other subjects.

Daya asks him if he’s had a chance to see much of Bombay and Wolfgang’s shoulders relax. He turns to her, smiling slightly, and starts to tell her about some of the wonderful things he’s seen. Daya is clearly smitten.

“Uh, oh,” Kala mutters, and Wolfgang flashes her a grin.

 

Kala opens her eyes and yawns, blinking sleepily in the morning light. She stretches luxuriously and thinks about sleeping in, perhaps even bringing a tray of breakfast into the room. There’s no reason why they can’t spend the morning in bed. It is their day off, after all. She rolls over to see if Rajan’s awake, only to find his side of the bed empty.

Oh well, so much for that idea. Kala sits up and swings her feet over the edge of the mattress. She scrubs her hands through her hair, finger-combing her curls into some sort of order. She gets up and reaches for a robe. She misses the days before the corruption trial started, when she could walk around in just her short nightie, before they were forced to employ men to lurk about their home.

At least now Wolfgang is living with them the security men are stationed outside. The brutal efficiency with which Wolfgang had taken down Kala’s kidnappers had made an impression on Rajan. “You should have seen him, Kala. He was better than Akshay Kumar!”

“Better than Akshay Kumar, really?” she’d marvelled, looking with wide-eyed admiration at Wolfgang

“You know it,” Wolfgang had agreed placidly.

 

She pours herself a juice and sips it slowly. She glances out of the window to see Wolfgang and Rajan in t-shirts and shorts, circling each other on colourful mats set out around the balcony. She blinks at the sight.

Her perspective shifts and now she’s on the mats, watching herself looking out of the kitchen window. Rajan is shifting back and forth in front of her, his eyes narrowed in concentration. Before she can even try to make sense of what’s happened, Rajan is lunging towards her, taking her into a grappling hold. She reacts on instinct, flipping him hard over her shoulder. She hears him grunt and then there’s a pained, “Ow.”

She falls to her knees. “Oh, no! Rajan!”

Rajan squints up at her; the morning sun is behind her. “Kala?” he says, sounding confused.

Impulsively, she leans down and kisses him. Rajan doesn’t respond for a long moment, and Kala’s just drawing back when his hand slides around the short, bristly hair at the nape of her neck. The sensation arrows straight to her groin. There’s an unfamiliar stirring there, and the shock of it snaps her back into the kitchen.

She watches Wolfgang kiss her husband for a few moments longer and then Wolfgang breaks the kiss and rolls to the side into a sprawling seated position, looking at Rajan. The smirk on his face is familiar, but he’s raising his hand to brush across his lips in what seems to be an unconscious gesture. Kala senses, like an echo, a mix of confusion and arousal and surprise.

Rajan sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “What just happened?”

 

Kala puts down her glass. She picks up the carafe of orange juice and a couple of glasses and steps out onto the balcony. “You two look as if you’ve been working hard,” she says, and it’s true. Their singlets are damp with sweat. Wolfgang’s whole face is flushed a light pink, and there’s a darker blush over Rajan’s cheekbones. His temples are beaded with perspiration.

Kala looks at them both and feels an unexpected wave of heat roll through her that she can’t blame on the temperature outside. Wolfgang smiles crookedly as he holds out his hand for a glass.

“Wolfgang has been teaching me some self-defence moves,” Rajan explains as she pours juice into their glasses.

“Has he?”

Wolfgang shrugs. “Technically it’s Sun who is doing the teaching.”

 

Now Kala is standing in a grassy park, a cool breeze making her shiver slightly, admiring the intense and single-minded way Sun is pummelling a punching bag. Sun steps back and grabs a bottle of water. She takes a long drink, smiling at Kala as she puts the bottle down again. She leans over to run her hand over her dog’s head. Kala feels the silkiness over her own palm.

“Can you teach me, too?”

“I would be happy to.”


	4. Chapter 4

They’re home alone tonight. Wolfgang’s gone out, showered and shaved and dressed in a tight blue shirt that matches his eyes. When Rajan had teased him about having a date as he was heading out, he’d merely shrugged and smiled enigmatically.

Kala’s appreciating having the house to themselves. She and Rajan are snuggled up on the sofa together and she’s half watching the movie on the television screen, half focused on the way Rajan’s fingers are absently stroking her bare shoulder. She’s idly thinking of suggesting they have an early night after the movie finishes, take advantage of Wolfgang’s absence. It would be nice to not have to worry about keeping quiet for once.

“Oh, my.” A sudden wash of desire floods Kala’s body. Her most intimate part throbs with urgency, and she stares blindly at the television screen.

“What is it?”

“Rajan,” Kala whispers.

“Are you all right, Kala?”

Rajan takes her hand and Kala gasps. She looks at him mutely. Rajan looks at her, first with concern, then, as his eyes run over her, with surprised interest. His eyes widen. “Really, my love?”

 

Her living room disappears. She’s standing in what appears to be a hotel room. A naked Wolfgang is making extremely enthusiastic love to a woman Kala has never seen before. “Oh, oh, oh,” the woman is crying out as he pounds into her, the bedsprings creaking in time with his thrusts. Kala should feel mortified, but she can’t concentrate on anything other than the fire racing through her. Wolfgang looks up at Kala. “Hello,” he says, breathlessly.

Kala can’t help it. Her eyes run over Wolfgang’s form, the flexing of his shoulder muscles and, lower, his gluteal muscles. They look very… firm.

Wolfgang’s eyes are very blue and very knowing. “Would you like to join us?”

_Yes._

Kala gasps and takes a step back, shaking her head at her instinctive reaction.

 

Her husband is leaning over, obviously intending to kiss her. Kala puts her hand on his chest and pushes hard. Rajan falls back against the sofa, his smile fading into confusion. Kala shifts up and over in order to throw her leg over his thighs. She slides firmly into his lap. Rajan’s smile returns and he runs his hands up her thighs to grasp her bottom. Kala grinds down against his lap. He’s not hard yet, but she needs him, needs something, and Rajan might be surprised by her unexpected forwardness, but he’s clearly not displeased. He slips one hand under her dress and straight into her underwear and finds her soaking wet already. “My wife,” he says, sounding awed.

“Rajan,” she pleads. She’s not thinking of anything but the urgency of her body, the echo of Wolfgang’s desire amplifying her own. Rajan obliges. His fingers move against her with intent. Kala’s whole focus narrows to that single point, she’s close, so close… Their connection flares with Wolfgang’s orgasm and she’s crying out as she falls over the edge, sparks pulsing through her. She collapses against Rajan’s chest, heaving for breath.

“My wife,” Rajan says again, still sounding awed. He strokes her back lightly as she pants against him. She knows that he only intends the gesture as an affectionate one, even though he’s fully hard against the place that’s still throbbing intermittently, but his fingers are sending trails of heat even through the layer of cotton between them.

In the back of her mind, Wolfgang is becoming aroused again already. Kala suddenly has a brief but intense impression of a hand working her penis, and she gasps. She can hear Wolfgang's grunts of effort and she catches a glimpse of he and his partner contorted into a position that looks like it requires an instruction manual. Is the man some sort of sex machine?

Her own arousal is already building again in tandem. Her sex pulses. She fumbles with the clasp of Rajan’s trousers. Rajan reaches down to help her but she bats his hands away and yanks the flaps open. She reaches in and pulls his hard penis out and rubs the head of it against her sex through her soaking panties.

Rajan is tugging at the sides of her panties now, trying to pull them down, but Kala can’t wait; she doesn’t want to tear herself away to get them off. She pulls them aside with her free hand and angles Rajan’s penis so that’s sliding into her folds and then she’s sitting herself firmly down onto him. She’s vaguely aware that Rajan is gasping something; he’s urging her on, but she doesn’t need any urging.

She’s riding him hard, his manhood brushing against that part inside her that sparks with every thrust. The pressure is building and building and then she’s over the edge, crying out. Rajan is sitting up, cradling her face between his hand as he kisses her. They’re blurring together; she’s kissing Rajan and she’s kissing Wolfgang, and Wolfgang’s holding her too. Wolfgang’s on top of her and all she can focus on is the feel of him inside her, his blue eyes piercing. “You want me,” Wolfgang murmurs, his tone wondering, as he thrusts into her. And then she’s climaxing again and again as Rajan cradles her, murmuring reassurances as she subsides finally into his arms, her face wet with tears.

 

Kala drifts for a while, tucked against Rajan’s side, her head on his chest, listening to his heart rate gradually slow. Her own body feels heavy and sated. She gradually becomes aware that Rajan is saying something, and she raises her head to look up at him. “Hmm?”

“Not that I am complaining—it was absolutely amazing—but what brought that on, if I may ask?”

Kala’s feeling of contentment vanishes. She considers prevaricating. It’s embarrassing. And what if Rajan feels hurt? What if Rajan feels his honour has been besmirched?

She can’t lie. This is her life now. They can’t go back. Rajan has to understand. He has to. She sits up and brushes her hair back from her face.

“Wolfgang,” she says. Rajan’s eyes narrow, and she hurries on. “He was having sex somewhere. I could feel it.”

She can’t read the expression on Rajan’s face now. “So, that wasn’t really you, then?” he says, his tone even. “You weren’t suddenly overcome with the desire to make love with me?”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean… I was.” Kala clasps her hands together, trying to think, trying to explain.

A warm hand closes over her clasped ones. “It’s all right. Take your time.”

Kala shrugs helplessly. “It is a sensate thing,” she says, searching for the right way to explain. Her cheeks heat. “When someone within our cluster is making love, it is possible for others to be affected.”

“And that’s what happened to you?”

“At first, yes,” she admits. “But, Rajan, I wanted to make love with you, not with anyone else.” Not Wolfgang, she doesn’t say. She shies away from the possibility that she might not be quite telling the truth.

“That sounds like it could be very inconvenient.”

“Indeed, although I am informed that the bleed-through, if you like, is most likely to occur when one is in a relaxed or meditative state.”

“So not when one is, for example, at work, or out in public.”

“No.”

“So you were warned this could occur?”

“Yes,” Kala bites her lip. “Although, I was told it usually happens when several members of the cluster happen to be engaging in sexual activity at the same time,” she says, taking refuge from her embarrassment with the clinical words. “Apparently, the psychic link can allow members to participate in”—Kala forces herself to meet Rajan’s eyes—“group sex.”

Rajan is looking at her with wide eyes. “And have you indulged in such a group activity?”

Kala puts her hands up to her hot cheeks. “No,” she says.

“But you cannot promise not to.”

“No,” she whispers.

Rajan nods, as if to himself, looking thoughtful.

“I’m sorry,” Kala says, hearing the tremble in her voice. What if this is something her husband cannot accept? How can any man accept such a thing about his wife, such wantonness?

Rajan must hear it too. He blinks and looks closely at her. “My darling,” he says, taking her hand. “How can I blame you for something you have no control over?”

“You have every right to expect that your wife be faithful only to you.”

“True.” And then, unexpectedly, Rajan’s mouth twists into a small but genuine smile. “I did promise you a modern marriage,” he quips.

The sensation of dread that had taken up residence in Kala’s chest starts to lighten and she takes a deep breath. “Not that modern,” she jokes in response, shaking her head.

 

Rajan doesn’t mention it again. Kala thinks that it must affect his relationship with Wolfgang, surely, to know that this man that Rajan has welcomed into his home, into his family, has a sexual connection with his wife, even if purely within their minds?

She watches them closely, alert for any changes in the way Rajan looks at Wolfgang, talks to Wolfgang, but she cannot detect any difference. Wolfgang still claps a friendly hand on Rajan’s shoulder as he walks past, or on his thigh as he gets up from sitting beside him on the sofa, and Rajan only smiles. Rajan still leans over Wolfgang’s shoulder to look into the cooking pot, still goes off to the cinema with him to see the violent action movies that Kala’s not keen on while Kala catches up with her girlfriends or pampers herself with pedicures or hair treatments. Sometimes she treasures the alone time. Sometimes Nomi or Riley keep her company.

After a while it starts to sink in that Rajan really is as generous spirited in this matter as he is in other things, and her heart aches with how much she loves him.

 

If anything, she’s the one that is self-conscious around Wolfgang. She doesn’t know what to expect from him. He’s so at ease with his sexuality, he practically exudes it at anyone who gets within range. She’s getting the hang of this sensate thing and when she looks at Wolfgang, if she concentrates, she can feel the pheromones coming from him. He doesn’t even actively flirt with people, they just take one look at him and fall under his spell, she decides grumpily, after watching yet another one of her friends simper at him just because he asked them if they were having a good day.

Wolfgang shoots her an amused look when she sighs exasperatedly.

Even Rajan’s not immune to his charm, even if he doesn’t realise what Wolfgang is doing. She’s not even sure if Wolfgang realises what he’s doing half of the time. It’s just natural to him.

 

After a while, when Wolfgang doesn’t refer back to that day, she relaxes. Perhaps it hadn’t been as significant to him as it had been to her. Perhaps he’s forgotten it already. Kala wishes she could. Kala wishes she could forget that she now knows what Wolfgang looks like when he’s having sex, forget the ecstatic cries of the woman that he was giving such pleasure to, forgets what it’s like to feel him inside her. One night she wakes up throbbing with arousal, the phantom weight of him still atop her, the feel of his manhood thrusting into her. She sits bolt upright in bed, gasping, looking around wildly, half expecting Wolfgang to be there, in bed with her or simply standing, watching her.

Moonlight streams through the window blinds, casting stripes across the floor. The room is empty. There’s only herself and Rajan. She’s still aroused, and she doesn’t think it would take very much to satisfy her, but that wouldn’t be fair to Rajan. She couldn’t do that to him. Not again.

Rajan stirs. “Kala? Everything all right?”

“Fine,” she says tightly. “Go back to sleep.”

Instead, Rajan props himself up on his elbow. He leans over to turn on the bedside lamp and then eyes her closely. “Is it happening again?”

“Not exactly,” she confesses. “I had a dream.”

Rajan is clearly intrigued. He places a hand on her thigh. “Would you like to tell me about it?”

Kala bites her lip. “It wasn’t about you,” she whispers.

She looks at him out of the corner of her eyes. She expects him to be disappointed at the very least. She’s not prepared for the unconcerned shrug that he gives. “Kala, your sexuality is unavoidably unconventional now, I will admit, but I can assure you that erotic dreams about other people are a perfectly normal part of being human.”

“Do you have erotic dreams about other women?”

“Occasionally.”

“Anyone I know?”

“No, but I will confess to a slight crush on Anushka Sharma.”

“She is very beautiful.”

“Indeed.”

“She has a new movie out at the cinema,” Kala remembers. She looks at Rajan under her lashes. “We could go see it together.”

“My wife!” Rajan catches her hand and raises it to his lips. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“And you, me.”

Her arousal has subsided. She’ll probably be able to get back to sleep now. But then Rajan’s hand falls back on to her thigh, and slips slowly upward in an unspoken question, and her skin prickles with heat. Her groin throbs as his fingers reach her, and her legs part without any conscious decision on her part. She looks down at her husband, who is leaning over now with a positively evil smile on his face.

He’s lifting her leg, moving underneath it, and then his mouth closes upon her sex. “Oh my God,” Kala moans, and then his wicked, wicked tongue goes to work, and Kala doesn’t think about anything else for a long time.

 

 

“Do you want to join us?” Wolfgang asks, as Kala wanders out onto the balcony carrying a book her friend Aashna has insisted on loaning her, despite Kala’s warning that she wouldn’t know when she’d have time to read it. It’s been sitting on her bedside table for weeks, seeming to accuse her whenever her eyes fall upon it.

Rajan’s on a business call with a client in Sydney, and from what Kala has gleaned from Rajan’s side of the conversation, he’s going to be a while.

Wolfgang is setting out the colourful mats.

“I don’t think so,” Kala says. She can’t imagine being able to fight off an attacker.

“That’s exactly why you should learn.”

“I’m not very brave.”

“You’re braver than you think,” another voice says.

Kala turns to see Sun sitting cross-legged on the diwan. “I’m not.”

“It took courage to stay strong inside that cave.”

“I had you all there to support me.”

“It took courage to fight to regain your health after the coma.”

 

She’s standing beside Sun in the memory, watching as she pulls herself along the walking bars, her arms shaking with exhaustion, her legs frustratingly uncooperative, dragging one leaden foot in front of the other, one step at a time.

“You can stop any time, Kala,” her physiotherapist says. “You’re doing well.”

“I’m fine,” she insists through gritted teeth. She’s determined to make it to the end of the rails today.

 

“Kala, you are joining us today?” Rajan sounds delighted at the prospect. He’s stretching his shoulder muscles as he steps out onto the balcony.

Kala shakes her head. “I don’t know,” she says hesitatingly.

“Come on,” Rajan says cajolingly. “Sun is an excellent teacher.”

Kala sometimes thinks that Rajan is more enthusiastic about the reality of sensates than she is. She’s watched Wolfgang and Rajan train several times. At least Kala can actually see Sun when she’s teaching. Rajan’s learning through Wolfgang, and yet he seems to have no problem accepting that he’s talking to someone other than the owner of the body and can usually tell whether it’s Sun or Wolfgang talking at any given moment without being told.

“I’m not dressed,” she protests weakly.

“Kala.”

Wolfgang raises his eyebrow. “We’ll wait,” he says placidly.

She knows when to admit defeat. “Okay,” she says unenthusiastically.

 

She hadn’t considered that such physical exercise could be so stimulating. She feels a rush of exhilaration when she manages to successfully toss Rajan over her shoulder and accepts the high five Lito offers from the sidelines where he’s sipping a bright blue cocktail through a straw.

The first time Wolfgang takes her in a grappling hold, and she manages to resist being thrown, she grins with triumph, blowing the lock of hair that’s fallen over her face out of the way. Behind Wolfgang’s shoulder, Sun’s demonstrating the next move she wants Kala to make. Kala drops and brings her foot up to Wolfgang’s stomach as he curls over her. She thrusts with all her strength, and with only a little help from Sun, Wolfgang’s flying over her head.

“My wife!” Rajan says admiringly, holding out a hand to pull her up. She’s high on adrenaline and comes to her feet faster than either of them were expecting. Kala’s suddenly hard against Rajan’s body. His hands come to rest on her waist. A spike of heat goes through her that has nothing to do with the exercise. She steps back immediately and walks over to the table where the tray of refreshments sits and pours herself a glass of water.

Behind her she can hear grunts of effort. She turns to watch and then almost chokes as she inadvertently swallows too much of the liquid and some of it goes down the wrong pipe. She coughs as discreetly as she can as her eyes water. Riley hands her a tissue and she wipes her eyes to see that Rajan is no longer pinning Wolfgang to the ground by dint of sprawling full length on top of him in a parody of an embrace. Now Rajan is nearly completely face down on the mat, only one knee and one arm straining to hold him up. Wolfgang is plastered along his back, one arm stretching over Rajan’s body to the mat, one leg sliding over the top of Rajan’s.

 

“Wow,” Riley breathes.

“Uh huh,” Nomi murmurs in agreement. “Do you think they’re doing it on purpose?”

“For Kala’s benefit, you mean?”

“I mean….?” Nomi gestures emphatically at the two men straining together on the mat.

“No,” Kala says, doubtfully. “I will admit, though…”

She watches as Wolfgang leans down and says something in Rajan’s ear that has Rajan cease his efforts to throw Wolfgang off him. The two of them turn their heads in unison to look at her. Wolfgang’s grinning slyly but it’s Rajan’s arrested expression that she can’t look away from.

Kala drops her eyes, a lifetime of modesty ingrained in her. She rubs the back of her neck self-consciously but can’t help letting her eyes drift back to the two men. They’re still watching her.

Then Wolfgang’s grin widens, and he sweeps Rajan’s supporting arm from under him. Rajan goes down with a loud ‘oof’, and then Wolfgang is sprawling on top of him. Rajan taps the ground with his outstretched hand. Wolfgang gathers his arms under himself and lifts himself to his feet in one easy movement.

He prowls towards Kala. Kala’s transfixed. Her heat rate picks up and her breath quickens. She can’t look away from the blue eyes fixed on hers. Is he really…? With Rajan right there…?

She should move away—this is wrong—but then Wolfgang is right there in front of her. He’s leaning in and Kala’s turning towards him like a flower towards the sun. It feels natural. It feels inevitable. Her eyes drop to his mouth, he’s so close…. Kala’s lips part. She’s holding her breath.

 

Wolfgang reaches past her to grab a bottle of water. He leans back and twists the lid off and then, still standing much too close to her, tilts the bottle and swigs the water so fast that some escapes. It’s trickling down the sides of his chin, his throat. Kala can’t resist anymore. She lunges forward and there’s that sensation of displacement again; it’s not distracting enough to stop her. She leans in and swipes at the rivulets, tasting the salt of him, the roughness of his stubble. Wolfgang growls and the sound arrows straight to her centre.

Wolfgang seizes her by the hips and lifts her effortlessly, swinging her around to seat her on the table. She catches sight of her body over his shoulder, frozen as if suspended in time. The glasses on the tray rattle. There’s the sound of something smashing on the tiles, but she can’t spare the attention to worry about that now. Wolfgang’s crowding between her parted legs. He takes her mouth with no hesitation, no mercy. Fire is racing through her veins, heat rocketing through her whole body.

She wraps her legs around his hips and pulls him closer. His hardness rocks against her. She craves him inside her. She slides her hand down under the waistband of his sweatpants. Wolfgang’s mouthing his way down her throat, cupping her breasts now, skimming his thumbs over her nipples. Kala cries out, and then as if in a dream she sees Rajan walking towards them. Rajan is reaching towards them… yes, yes... Rajan…. She holds out an eager hand in invitation.

He reaches past her for a glass of juice, as if she’s invisible to him, and it’s as if a bucket of cold water’s been thrown over her. Her heart plummets.

 

Now she’s standing beside Wolfgang, who’s picked up a banana from the nearby fruit bowl and is just finishing the last bite. The glasses on the tray are undisturbed. Wolfgang grins at her as she stares at him in absolute horror, echoes of the desire that had unexpectedly overwhelmed her still flickering through her. For all the smug expression on his face, though, she can tell he’s still affected too.

Rajan is saying something and she hasn’t heard a word. She bites her lip. “Mmm?” she says, raising her eyebrows. She does her best to look as if she’s not standing there with panties so wet she’s going to have to go change, caused by their trusted houseguest, the man they call family.

She makes some excuse and flees inside, barely remembering to grab her book on the way.

 

“My love,” Rajan says, later that night, when they’re getting ready for bed.

“Mm?” Kala says, slipping under the sheet.

“I couldn’t help but notice, earlier, when we were training….”

Kala can feel the blood draining from her face. She stares mutely at her husband, the man she loves, awaiting his judgement.

Rajan reaches out and takes her hand. “Kala, what is it? Are you all right?” he asks, his expression anxious now.

She nods, jerkily.

“I just wanted to apologise, if we made you uncomfortable earlier, when we were grappling. Wolfgang said, and I’m afraid I believed him, that he could tell that you…liked what you were seeing, and caught up in the moment, I allowed things to go a bit too far. I would hate to think I have been the cause of any embarrassment for you.”

Rajan raises her hand to his lips and presses a kiss on to it. He’s gazing at her with such concern that she can’t bear it.

Kala bursts into tears.

Of course, that only makes things worse. Rajan is looking horrified, convinced he is the one at fault here. She can’t lie to him. He has been so understanding, so patient with her. But how can he be expected to accept this?

She tells him everything.

Once she starts, she knows in her heart that there’s no going back. She tells him about her large betrayal today—kissing Wolfgang, touching him—practically under his nose. She tells him about the small betrayals—the way she’s aware of Wolfgang when he’s in the room, and sometimes when he’s somewhere else entirely. She tells him about the long walks during the family dinners and the way it sometimes seems as though her soul is drawn to Wolfgang’s despite her love for her husband.

Rajan doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t let go of her hand. He holds out the tissue box for her when she sniffles and waits patiently for her to dry her tears and blow her nose. When she finally finishes speaking, she sits with eyes downcast, awaiting his verdict.

Rajan is silent for so long that if he wasn’t still holding her hand, she might have believed he’d left the room. “I see,” he says, finally.

“I understand if you want a divorce,” Kala says, trying not to let her voice break. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated me now. To betray you like this…” she finishes in a whisper.

“Is that what you wish?” Rajan says tonelessly.

She’d expected anger, disgust, perhaps. This lack of an overt reaction is somehow more frightening. “What I wish?”

“To be free of this marriage?” He sounds like the words are being dragged out of him. “Of me?”

“Rajan, no!”

Rajan sighs deeply. “Good.”

Kala clutches his hand like a lifeline. “You don’t want to divorce me?”

“Of course not. Kala, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I am glad you have been honest with me. Now I must be honest with you in return. I am not blind. I have seen the way you look at Wolfgang and I have seen the way Wolfgang looks at you. I have had to come to terms with the fact that there is something between you that I can never be part of.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Rajan’s mouth twists. Kala’s heart aches that her actions have put that expression on his face. “Fear,” he says simply.

“You have nothing to fear,” she promises him, squeezing his hand.

“You believe that now, I know,” he says, still with that unhappy smile. “I have done a great deal of soul-searching.”

“And?”

She expects him to say that Wolfgang must leave, go back to Germany, and that would be best, wouldn’t it? If they didn’t see each other every day. If he were half a world away, perhaps the connection that’s been growing stronger would instead fade.

“I believe that you should go to him.”

_“What?”_

“You want him. You’ve tried to deny yourself and only succeeded in tying yourself up in knots. I love you, Kala, I hate to see you like this.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head.

“Kala.”

“No.” She pulls her hand from his grasp and jumps to her feet. Her head is whirling. How can Rajan be okay with this? She glances at his drawn expression as she paces back and forth. He’s not okay with this, she realises. How could he be? He’s offering this because he loves her and believes she can’t be happy with him alone.

And there’s an ache in her chest that tells her that he’s right.

“I can’t,” she whispers, sinking back onto the bed beside him. She dares to look up at him. Rajan’s looking at her with such love. She doesn’t deserve him. “I can’t do this without you.”

When Rajan reaches for her, she leans into him and allows herself to be wrapped tightly in his arms. She wishes they could stay that way forever.


	5. Chapter 5

Wolfgang seems chastened. He doesn’t smirk at her in that knowing way anymore, and although her skin sometimes prickles with awareness, as though he’s following her with his eyes, if she does look up, his attention is always elsewhere.

Even their casual ‘visits’ have ceased. It’s as if he’s closed himself off, somehow. Kala and Rajan go to a movie that Rajan’s heard good things about and she finds her attention drifting. She wonders what Wolfgang’s doing and catches a glimpse of him sitting in a bar, tossing back a shot of whisky. There’s the sharp taste of alcohol in her mouth for a brief moment and then Wolfgang looks up, looks straight at her. Kala stares at him mutely. His eyes search hers, but whatever he’s looking for he doesn’t appear to find. He looks away and the connection disappears.

 

Kala feels like she’s walking a tightrope. She’s determined not to give Rajan any more reason to doubt her loyalty to him.

She starts making excuses to stay back late at work. Rajan doesn’t say anything for a week, but on the Friday he puts his foot down. “My love, there is nothing that cannot wait until tomorrow,” he says. “We cannot have people believing your husband is a slave-driver,” he adds, teasingly.

Kala smiles weakly, grateful for his attempt at normality. She gathers her bag and goes with him to the car. Rajan is in a good mood. He asks after her cluster and seems genuinely pleased when Kala informs him that Capheus has been re-elected for a second term in office. Kala doesn’t mention that he’s also just survived a third assassination attempt and that she was the one who ran the test to confirm the presence of poison in his orange juice.

 

Wolfgang’s not come home with them today. She tries not read anything in it. Sometimes he goes out to a bar—or with one of his women friends—straight from work.

Rajan’s casting glances at her when he thinks she’s not looking, and his foot is tapping in that unconscious way he has when he’s nervous or impatient. Kala tries not to feel paranoid. “Everything all right?” she asks, trying to sound casual.

“Of course, why do you ask?”

Kala shakes her head. “No reason,” she says, and turns to look out of the window at the traffic and the people and life going on outside their bubble.

 

The trip seems to take longer than usual. When they finally arrive home, Kala goes straight to their room to put down her bag and change out of her pencil skirt. She flops back on to the bed and stares at the ceiling, wondering how long she can get away with just lying there. It’s been a long day and inertia’s setting in. At least Wolfgang is not there. She can’t breathe when the three of them are together now. Her emotions are in turmoil: her regrets, her lingering guilt and, somewhere buried deep, deep inside her, the spark of excitement at the thought of taking Rajan up on his offer.

She refuses to listen to the little demon inside her that whispers that it would be a good thing if she went to Wolfgang—got him ‘out of her system’, once and for all. That once she knows what it is like with him, she’ll cease to be plagued with imagining what it would feel like to genuinely touch him. She’ll be able to cast the thought of him out of her mind forever.

She hears Rajan enter the room. “I have prepared a bubble bath for you,” he announces. “I will see to our dinner while you relax.”

Kala raises her head to look at him. He’s carrying a lemon-coloured cocktail and is wearing that secretive smile again. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Darling, you have had a long week. Allow me to pamper you a little?”

How can she refuse, when he looks at her so expectantly, as though waiting on her gives him pleasure? She wonders, with yet another stab of guilt, if he’s trying hard to please her because he believes he needs to do so in order to keep her happy. Although, he’s always liked to please her in little ways, hasn’t he?

She takes the glass he’s holding out and takes a sip of the cocktail. It’s unexpectedly sweet, but the sharp tang of the alcohol offsets the sugar. Rajan’s still holding out his hand and Kala puts her own hand in his as she stands up. He leans in for a kiss and Kala melts into him, wanting to deepen the moment. But Rajan steps back and shakes his head. “Go and enjoy your bath before the bubbles disappear,” he smiles. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

 

The bath is the perfect temperature and the bubbles plenty enough that they spill over the edge of the tub when she sinks under the water. Rajan has lit one of her aromatherapy candles and Kala inhales the soothing citrus scent. She drains the rest of her glass and feels her muscles truly relax for the first time in a very long time.

There’s more of the Limoncello cocktail in a carafe next to the bath. The last time she’d had something similar they’d been staying in Positano. Kala lets her thoughts drift back to their honeymoon as she slowly sips her second glass. They’d stayed in a wonderful villa overlooking the sea. Rajan had rented a boat and they’d spent most of their days cruising along the Amalfi Coast, calling in at picturesque towns, anchoring the boat to go swimming or snorkelling around the beautiful grottos nearby. They’d spent the nights looking up at the stars and discovering each other.

Rajan had been patient with Kala’s inexperience and had made sure her first time was special… and every time after that. She’d known the mechanics beforehand, of course, but she’d had no idea that the experience could be so magical. Just the memory of those nights evokes a warm sensation of pleasure that washes gently through her body.

Kala’s floating in a pleasurable haze of relaxation and mild arousal when the murmur of male voices reaches her through the door. She doesn’t have to guess who Rajan’s talking to; the sound of the two men conversing as they prepare food together is a familiar and beloved, and in her tranquil state she can’t remember why she was ever worried.

 

Eventually it occurs to Kala that no one’s called out to remind her about dinner. The bubbles are long gone and the water’s nearly cold. She steps out of the bath, shivering at the cool air on her wet skin. Not for the first time, she feels nostalgic for her parents’ home, where the air-conditioning is only in the family rooms and is restricted to the hottest days.

She gets dressed into her most comfortable nightie and ventures out onto the patio, where Rajan and Wolfgang are sitting at a small table, a chess board in front of them, glasses of the lemon cocktail at their elbows. Rajan is staring at the board with his brow creased in concentration. Wolfgang is watching Rajan, a gently amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He looks up as Kala emerges.

Rajan looks up from the board and follows Wolfgang’s glance. His face breaks out in a smile. “Kala, you must come and sit with me and be on my side. I suspect Wolfgang is receiving assistance.” Rajan taps his forefinger against his head, and nods knowingly.

“No one is helping me,” Wolfgang says mildly.

Kala shrugs. “I can’t see anyone.” She looks over at the dinner table, where the dinner is laid out, covers over the dishes. “You should have called me sooner.”

“Where is the hurry?”

Wolfgang moves his bishop. “Checkmate,” he says and grins.

“There, you see?” Rajan says, in a satisfied tone. “You are just in time.”

 

The food is delicious. “Wolfgang cooked most of it,” Rajan says, ever modest, when Kala compliments them both.

“Rajan supervised.”

The conversation is relaxed and stays safely on uncontroversial topics. Kala’s relieved that they seem to have moved past any awkwardness. Relieved and, if she’s being honest, a little disconcerted.

 

It’s after dinner that the tension returns. Wolfgang’s silent again and appears to be making a determined effort not to look too often at Kala. Kala’s mind seems to have gone blank. Rajan’s single-handedly keeping the conversation going.

Finally, he seems to snap. “Look, this is ridiculous,” he exclaims, shooting an exasperated glance at Wolfgang, who just lounges back in his chair and looks at them from under his eyelashes. Kala’s heart sinks. She swallows past the sudden tightness in her throat.

“We had it all planned, what we were going to say, how we were going to ask you, but—”

“What you were going to ask me?” Kala’s voice squeaks. Goddess, are they planning to ask her to choose, after all? Now?

“We both understand how difficult this is for you—”

“Do you?”

“Given your quite definitive response when I suggested you go to Wolfgang, which, I have to admit, relieved my mind, Wolfgang and I have discussed the issue—”

“Oh my God.” Kala jumps to her feet and turns away, covering her hot face with her hands.

“It’s okay,” Wolfgang says.

“It has taken me a while to accept that Wolfgang loves you also, and that he can be with you in a way that I can’t.”

Kala holds her hands out to Rajan. “I wouldn’t,” she says, imploringly.

Rajan holds her hands against his chest. He smiles at her, but she can see the sadness in his eyes. “We both know that you don’t always have a choice.”

“I wouldn’t betray you.”

“My wife, that is what I am trying to say to you—”

“We want you to be with both of us,” Wolfgang says.

“With… both of you?” Kala says, faintly. They can’t mean…?

Rajan nods. “Yes.”

“Together?” she whispers.

“Yes,” Wolfgang says. He’s still lounging in the chair, looking for all the world as if they’re discussing the weather, not some kind of—Kala’s brain stutters on the word for a second—threesome. Kala can tell that he is not as blasé about it as he appears, though.

Rajan looks more nervous than he had on their wedding day. Understandable, Kala supposes. His proposal is outrageous. She should reject it utterly. She can’t deny, though, that the thought of it is sending a frisson of excitement throughout her body.

“Just the once?” she asks, because it’s really not clear to her exactly what they’re proposing.

Rajan shrugs.

Kala’s heart is pounding. “How would this work?”

Wolfgang’s behind her now. She smells his cologne, feels the brush of his facial hair as he presses a kiss on to her neck and murmurs, “however we want it to.”

Wolfgang puts his hands on her hips, moulds his body to hers. His erection pushes against her bottom. Kala’s body throbs. She can feel the blush on her cheeks and thinks Rajan must be able to see her reaction. She forces herself to look up at him, not sure she could bear it if he was disgusted. After all, it’s one thing to believe you are fine with something when it is in the abstract. The reality, however….

Avid. That’s the only word Kala can think of to describe the way Rajan’s watching her. His eyes flicker to Wolfgang, and as if in response, Wolfgang starts to kiss his way up the line of her throat. Kala tilts her head back, watching the way Rajan’s eyes follow Wolfgang’s progress.

Wolfgang’s reached her ear. He sucks the lobe into his mouth. Kala gasps at the unexpected spark that elicits, but then Wolfgang takes the lobe between his teeth and very gently bites it. Kala moans, shocked at the surge of sensation, and lets her head fall back on to Wolfgang’s shoulder.

Wolfgang’s alternating between sucking and nibbling now, and all of Kala’s attention is focussed on the unexpectedly marvellous sensation. She’s vaguely aware that Rajan is saying something about the neighbours, and then Wolfgang’s stepping back. Kala starts to open her eyes, to protest, but then she’s being swept up into strong arms, and Kala opens her eyes to see Wolfgang staring at her intently as he makes his way towards the patio door.

Rajan’s holding the door open for them. Kala suddenly can’t help the feeling that this whole situation is too surreal. This can’t be happening to her, something’s bound to go wrong. She’s starting to feel self-conscious, her arousal fading even as Wolfgang’s laying her down on the bed—on hers and Rajan’s marriage bed. Kala looks up, searching for her husband as Wolfgang lies down beside her. Rajan’s standing by the bed, looking down at her with the same expression of desire and awe that he always wears when they make love, as though he still can’t believe she chose him. She holds out her hand and Rajan takes it immediately. She pulls him down so that he’s lying on the other side of her.

Like bookends, Kala thinks wildly, and then has to control an inappropriate impulse to giggle. She looks between Rajan and Wolfgang, wondering if their plan had progressed beyond getting them here, or if they’re as at sea as she is.

But then Wolfgang smiles at Rajan, and it’s as if they are the ones sharing the mental connection. Rajan smiles back, and when Wolfgang reaches down and places one hand on Kala’s knee, Rajan follows suit on the other side. Wolfgang’s hand inches slowly higher, under Kala’s nightie, and Rajan’s follows. Their hands leaving a trail of heat on either side.

“Oh my God,” she says faintly, wondering what she’s let herself in for, the two of them, her men, ganging up on her to bring her pleasure.

Their hands have reached her upper thighs, but have come to a stop, the material of Kala’s nightie pulled tight. Kala looks from one to the other. They are waiting patiently for her to decide, to make the next move. Swallowing hard, she pushes her feet into the bed and raises her hips so that they can pull her nightie up to her waist.

She lowers herself back on to the bed, and then, deciding she can’t possibly feel more exposed than she already does, sits up and strips off the garment, and then lies down again, rubbing her palms against her thighs. “Darling,” Rajan murmurs ardently, taking one of her hands and raising to his mouth and when she looks at him, he slowly starts to trail kisses along her wrist, up her inner arm. She shivers. Wolfgang picks up her other arm and bends his head. Kala closes her eyes.

 

She loses track of time. She loses track of everything, her body aflame with desire. One of them is crouched between her legs, licking her, sucking her clit and stroking her with long fingers. The other is lavishing attention on her breasts, using fingers and tongue and even a hint of teeth. Somewhere in the back of her mind Kala realises that this must be Wolfgang, because Rajan has never uses his teeth, he’s always so careful with her. She has an arm around Wolfgang, her hand aimlessly caressing any part of him she can reach, her nails inadvertently digging into the skin of his back when Wolfgang bites down, very gently. Kala hears herself cry out as her orgasm unexpectedly overwhelms her.

When she can focus again, she looks up to see Rajan and Wolfgang both smiling down at her. “You both look very pleased with yourselves,” she mumbles. She grabs gratefully for the bottle of water Rajan hands her and takes several gulps in what is no doubt a very unladylike manner. Not that anything they’ve done in this bed, and no doubt will be continuing to do, could be considered in anyway well-mannered.

“What now?” Kala murmurs, because she’s just now noticing that both men have at some point disrobed and are now lying on either side of her wearing only their underwear, their erections very obviously straining against the constriction.

“Whatever we like,” Wolfgang says.

“We have the whole weekend,” Rajan smiles. “We have no engagements organised and I have informed security that we are not to be disturbed.”

“Oh, goodness.”

They really do have this whole thing planned. Kala swipes a lock of tangled hair from her sweaty face. She must look a mess, but they are both still looking at her as though she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, so perhaps they find her dishevelled appearance appealing. After all, they are responsible for putting her in this condition.

“Also, you are naked,” Wolfgang points out, and she glares at him. She’s almost certain she didn’t say that out loud.

“You are gorgeous, Kala,” Rajan murmurs.

Wolfgang nods. His eyes run hotly over her naked body. Even after everything they’ve just done, Kala’s still surprised that she doesn’t feel an urge to cover herself at his appraisal. Quite the opposite.

She sits up and with a glance at Rajan, who smiles encouragingly, tugs at the waistband of Wolfgang’s underwear. “Off,” she orders. Wolfgang grins, and, rolling back on the bed, unselfconsciously strips off his briefs and throws them on the floor. He’s very… impressive. She reaches out and strokes his penis once and then hesitates, feeling awkward. What about Rajan?

There’s a hand on her spine and Rajan is leaning against her back. The warmth and familiarity of him is reassuring. His hand starts to slip around her waist as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Kala looks at him out of the corner of her eye to see that he’s looking down, looking at her hand on another man’s penis. “Go on,” he murmurs, and she starts to move her hand again, her eyes flicking between Wolfgang’s penis and his absorbed expression, taking her time. She moves her hand down to fondle his balls, smiling as Wolfgang moans, and feeling Rajan’s own smile against her cheek, Rajan’s erection against her hip. Rajan’s fingers are moving slowly down, down to where she’s already wet.

She slides her hand back up to Wolfgang’s penis and starts to jerk it, trying to focus on that rather than the distraction of Rajan’s fingers, but it’s becoming difficult to concentrate. Rajan’s hand closes over her own, takes over the rhythm and Kala relinquishes any attempt to actively participate. She watches in fascination as their rhythm speeds up, as Wolfgang’s hands clench in the bedsheets and he groans. His hands flatten on the mattress and he’s sitting up; he’s reaching for her; his hands cup her face as he leans in to kiss her. She’s leaning forward to meet him. Rajan’s hands are on her hips, nudging her and she leans forward further, gathering her knees under her. Rajan is moving into position behind her, urging her back towards him, and then he’s inside her.

She’s rocking with his thrusts. Wolfgang’s holding her steady, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. Rajan is shuddering against her, groaning, his rhythm faltering, and then he’s slumped against her back, breathing heavily, still.

Rajan’s weight is pressing Kala against Wolfgang’s chest. He presses a lingering kiss onto her shoulder, and then he’s shifting away and Kala can breathe again. Wolfgang’s murmuring something, questioning, _yes, anything,_ she thinks she says.

Rajan’s lifting her away from Wolfgang to lie back against his chest She watches as Wolfgang rolls a condom on. Wolfgang’s eyes are flickering between her and Rajan. His expression seems to waver between wonder and disbelief. He’s kneeling forward. Kala’s reaching for him, holding his penis, guiding it inside her. Wolfgang’s moving, slowly at first, then picking up the pace, thrusting into her, his face buried in her hair as Rajan holds her steady. It feels good but it’s not enough. Rajan’s hand slides between their bodies to touch her just the right way, the way he knows will tip her over and she’s there, the contractions spreading outwards. Waves of pleasure course through her body and she’s floating, held securely between her lovers.

 

Kala wakes to the sound of voices murmuring quietly on either side of her, something about a football competition and somebody who was definitely off-side, or maybe not; opinions appear to be divided. She stretches luxuriously, pointing her toes and rolling her shoulders. She aches in unusual places, but she doesn’t mind. She’s in no hurry open her eyes. She’s savouring the moment.

She ignores the conversation, which appears to have escalated to friendly bickering.

“How can one person be so completely wrong is beyond me,” Rajan is now arguing. “There was barely any contact to speak of.”

“That penalty was deserved. You’re just bitter because your team lost.”

Rajan makes a frustrated noise. “I suppose the headbutt was deserved too?”

“Well...” Wolfgang drawls. Kala can feel his amusement.

“Stop baiting Rajan,” she says, sitting up and leaning over to press a kiss on his lips, a kiss that goes on longer than she’s meant it to when Wolfgang’s lips part and his tongue flicks out to taste her.

“But it’s so much fun,” he says.

Kala leans over to kiss Rajan. Rajan smiles against her lips. “Good morning, my love,” he says.

“Good morning.” She looks at the tray of fruit, dosa and potato masala sitting at the base of the bed. “You’ve been busy.”

Wolfgang leans over Kala, his face close to Rajan’s and breathes, “Next, you’ll claim the referee was biased.”

Rajan makes a strangled noise and launches himself at Wolfgang, tackling him to the bed. Kala gives an undignified squeak and squirms out from under Rajan’s legs. She steadies the tray, which has been knocked by a flailing limb, and then slithers off the bed and removes both the tray and herself to a safe distance. She watches, bemused, as the two men wrestle, although given how hard Wolfgang is laughing, she’s not sure how much effort he’s putting into it.

She picks up a black plum and bites into it as she watches them. The sweet juice bursts from the skin as she bites into it and she distractedly raises her hand to wipe the juice from her chin.

Rajan and Wolfgang are both grinning fiercely now as they grapple with each other. She has the distinct feeling this isn’t the first time they’ve resolved a difference of opinion over football this way, though it’s almost certainly the first time they’ve been naked while doing it. 

She recognises the moment the mood shifts. Rajan has Wolfgang pinned to the bed, Wolfgang’s straining against him, attempting to shift the balance, hampered by the way the foot he’s using to push his body upwards is sinking into the mattress. Wolfgang abruptly stills, and a moment later Rajan, evidently deciding that the ‘fight’ is over, does too.

Rajan raises his head to look down at Wolfgang. Their faces are close together. Wolfgang’s staring up at Rajan’s face, panting. Rajan’s grin fades. Kala watches his eyes widen, watches his face change as he takes in their respective positions: the fact that Wolfgang isn’t moving, that Wolfgang appears to be waiting for Rajan to make a decision, to make the next move. Kala finds herself holding her breath. The plum falls from her hand. She barely notices.

Rajan’s eyes drop to Wolfgang’s mouth. And then he’s bending his head those last few centimetres, his lips parting. Wolfgang’s lifting his own head to meet Rajan’s kiss, raising his hand to grip the back of Rajan’s neck and hold him in place. Kala’s breath explodes out of her as the kiss deepens, as Wolfgang levers them over so that Rajan is underneath him, staring up at him with wide, stunned eyes.

Wolfgang starts to lean down and then pauses. “Okay?”

Rajan nods slowly, still looking stunned, but when Wolfgang leans down to kiss him again, Rajan raises his arms to wrap them around Wolfgang’s back. For a while Wolfgang seems content to just kiss Rajan. Rajan’s returning his kisses readily, his hands skating restlessly up and down Wolfgang’s back.

“You dropped your plum,” Wolfgang says, holding it out.

Kala takes it from him. “Thank you,” she says, and throws it on to the dressing table next to her without looking.

She watches Wolfgang watch himself kissing Rajan.

She waits.

“I’m worried about scaring him off,” Wolfgang finally admits.

“I don’t think that’s very likely.”

“He loves you.”

“That’s true. But he loves you too. We both do. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t.”

Wolfgang ducks his head. He doesn’t know what do with that information, she realises, and her heart aches for him, that he finds it hard to believe that anyone could love him.

Only time will prove to him that she’s telling the truth. In the meantime. “Go,” she says, raising her eyebrows and nodding towards the figures on the bed. “Go seduce our man.”

Wolfgang gives her a shy smile and is gone.

 

On the bed, Wolfgang begins to kiss his way down Rajan’s chest. Rajan’s arms fall to the bed as he stares up at the ceiling, breathing heavily. Kala watches as Wolfgang makes himself comfortable between Rajan’s legs. Rajan raises his head and stares at her, wide-eyed, as Wolfgang takes hold of his penis. Kala smiles at him, reassurance and permission both and then Wolfgang is bending his head to take Rajan in his mouth. Rajan’s eyes fly back to Wolfgang. 

Elation floods her as she realises that the last piece has clicked into place, the thing she hadn’t realised they needed, the thing that will bind them, strengthen them. They really are together now, the three of them. 

She’s tempted to crawl back into bed with them, just to make herself comfortable, not to join in. They’re getting to know each other this way, becoming comfortable with each other without her as a conduit. She doesn’t want to do anything to come between them. But she’s also aware that as well as pleasantly aching muscles in odd places, she could also do with a shower to freshen up. 

She grabs another plum on her way out, casting one last glance at the bed. One of Rajan’s knees is bent up now, so that the heel of his foot is against his bottom, which is now supported by a pillow. Wolfgang certainly is efficient—she hadn’t even seen him do that. His tongue is tracing behind Rajan’s balls now. Rajan’s eyes are closed and he’s moving his head restlessly, his hands threaded through Wolfgang’s short hair. Wolfgang’s not having any trouble moving his head though, so Rajan’s obviously being careful not to impede his actions. 

Rajan’s fine. Kala goes to get a shower, leaving her lovers to get to know each other.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later.

Kala jiggles the baby and makes the appropriate cooing noises at her but to no avail. Her little cousin’s face crumples, and Kala hastily hands her back to her mother before she can start screaming.

“When will you be starting a family of your own?” Auntie Aparna asks her. Kala smiles and murmurs something about ‘when the time is right’. It’s vague enough that people can assume that they’re trying, although she suspects that it won’t be too long until the questions become more pointed. _Have you seen a doctor? They can do marvellous things nowadays_.

Every now and then she reminds her family and her concerned friends that she and Rajan are perfectly happy as they are, that her career is very important to her right now; she’s doing important work. Her relatives nod and agree and she ignores the pity she can see in their eyes.

When the women are deep in conversation about teething and breast feeding and enrolling their babies into the best schools, Kala stares out of the window and imagines their reaction if she told them she’s using birth control, that she absolutely doesn’t plan to get pregnant for a long time yet. 

 

“Imagine how they’d react if you gave birth to a baby that clearly wasn’t Rajan’s,” Wolfgang drawls in her ear, and then disappears again.

 

Kala shudders. Wolfgang’s been living with them for nearly five years now. People have stopped asking why the German is still there, why he hasn’t found himself a nice place—a nice girl—of his own. 

Kala’s parents and sister know why. Of course they do. As circumspect as they must be in public, in her own home—their home—Kala and Rajan don’t try to hide the love they have for Wolfgang. Once, Kala had been sitting out on the balcony with her parents, talking about what, she doesn’t remember, when her mother had taken her hand and asked, a note of urgency in her voice, if Kala was happy, and Kala had followed her glance to see Wolfgang and Rajan preparing drinks in the kitchen, Wolfgang’s arm slung around Rajan’s shoulder, their heads bent together intimately. Kala had looked from her mother to her father. “We are,” she’s said firmly. “We are _all_ very happy.” Her parents hadn’t looked thrilled, how could she expect them to? But they’ve respected her choices and once it became clear that Wolfgang wasn’t going anywhere, they’ve been treating him like one of the family.

The baby shrieks, and Kala winces, and then winces again as, in her ear, Wolfgang and Rajan roar at the television screen. In the family room here, she can hear the men of her cousin’s household gathered around the television watching the same football match Kala had escaped, coming here.

“Where are Rajan and Wolfgang today, anyway?” her cousin asks.

“At home, watching the match.”

“Why are they not watching it here?”

“Rajan’s been sick with a cold. He didn’t want to risk infecting anyone. Wolfgang’s keeping him company, because apparently watching football is a social activity.”

There’s a roar from the television and the men all groan. Her cousin nods, looking down at her baby, sleeping in her arms now. 

Kala smiles and turns to talk to Auntie Aparna, who’s not wearing her hearing aid again. She sighs, wishing she was at home, with her husbands.

 

She can tell the football match has ended, not just because the men have come out of the television room to mingle with the rest of the family, but because she’s no longer receiving random spikes of excitement or anguish from Wolfgang. Auntie Aparna is telling a story about her financier son that Kala has heard many times before. Kala’s thinking vaguely of making her excuses. She loves her extended family, but they are boisterous, and she longs for the peace and quiet of her own home. She wants to be snuggled on the sofa, sipping a cocktail while Wolfgang massages her feet.

 

 _Wolfgang._ A gentle wave of arousal flows through her. She’s used to this now. It doesn’t accidentally happen very often anymore when she’s out in public, only when her mind is quiet, when her mind wanders in their direction. She looks around to make sure no one is paying her any attention, and concentrates her focus on Wolfgang’s mind.

 

Highlights of the football match are playing on the television, but Wolfgang and Rajan aren’t paying any attention to it. Rajan’s flat on his back on the sofa. Wolfgang is sprawled on top of him, his hands pinning Rajan’s to the sofa cushion on either side of Rajan’s head. Rajan clearly doesn’t object. They’re kissing leisurely, both of them flushed and aroused, and content looking. Wolfgang looks up and smiles at her. “Kala’s here,” he murmurs. It’s habit now, to let Rajan know when one of them is visiting. 

“Hello, darling,” Rajan says, taking the opportunity to tug at Wolfgang’s ear with his teeth. Wolfgang’s whole body jerks. “How’s your cousin?” Rajan says.

“She’s doing well and so is the baby.”

Wolfgang relays the message, as per their habit in these situations. He kisses Rajan’s throat and then begins to place kisses down his chest.

“So, what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Rajan asks, the question ending on a squeak as Wolfgang reaches his nipple. His eyes lose focus for a moment.

“Auntie Aparna.”

“Is she very boring today?”

“You have no idea.”

“You forget who—“ Rajan breaks off with a gasp and then continues with what is obviously a heroic effort, “— got trapped talking to her for an hour at your birthday last year.”

Kala giggles.

Wolfgang looks up at her again. “Are you coming home soon?”

She sighs. “I’m not sure I can. I haven’t spent very much time with our relatives recently, I think they’re feeling a bit neglected. You two have fun.”

“We will,” Wolfgang promises, and then bends his head and does something to Rajan’s other nipple that makes her husband cry out, his back arching off the sofa.

 

There’s a hand on her arm and Kala is jolted back to her cousin’s family room. The men are still enthusiastically discussing the finer points of the football match. The women are fussing over the baby. Thankfully none of them are looking at Kala, apart from Auntie Aparna who is staring up at Kala in much too knowing a manner. Or perhaps Kala is being paranoid.

“Are you well, my dear?” Auntie Aparna asks. 

“Quite well, thank you, Auntie,” Kala assures her. The room is warm enough that she can fan her hot face with her hand without it looking odd.

She picks up her cooled masala chai and takes a large sip, and then almost spits it out again when Auntie Aparna asks, “Is it the menopause, dear?” She swallows hurriedly and wipes her mouth on a napkin.

Through the bond there’s the echo of a breathless laugh.

 

 _Have her cousin’s parties always been this boring?_ she thinks and immediately feels guilty. It’s not her cousin’s fault that Kala would rather be somewhere else. Or rather, with someone else. _Someones_ else. She’s not the only one who’s bored though. Auntie Aparna has finally nodded off to sleep, which is a relief. At least Kala doesn’t have to feign interest in any more of her stories. Surely she can go now? Her family won’t fault her for wanting to hurry home to her ailing husband, then ducks her head to hide her smile as thinks of the last time she saw her ‘ailing’ husband. Too late she realises her mistake.

 

She’s looking at the long expanse of Rajan’s back. Her hands, pale against his smooth skin, are clutching his hips as she thrusts into him, long, slow, leisurely thrusts that force a groan out of Rajan as he grips the back of the sofa with both hands, bracing himself against her thrusts.

All her focus is on the feeling of tight heat, of pressure building up. “Husband,” she gasps.

Rajan’s head turns. “Kala?” 

Somewhere in the back of her mind she’s surprised he can even think clearly enough to recognise that she’s here. Although, he has had a lot of practice. “Yes,” she says. “I’m here.” She’s aware of Wolfgang too. She’s him, and he’s her. “We’re here,” they say.

“Wolfgang.” Rajan moans. “Kala.”

“Yes,” they say.

And then the pressure’s too much, it’s exploding out of her, of them, and Kala’s coming back to herself, sitting in a chair next to her snoring Auntie, her hands clenched together in her lap so tightly the nails are digging into the skin of her hands, grounding her.

She can’t wait to get home.

 

It’s not the first time she’s been glad that she has a driver now. She sits in the back seat, legs firmly crossed, determinedly thinking about baby shower gifts, and when that very quickly gets boring, devises new projects for the subordinate she’s mentoring at work. 

By the time she gets home her lovers are preparing dinner. They haven’t bothered to get dressed, merely wrapped towels around their hips, more for protection of their private parts than any sense of modesty, Kala thinks. Wolfgang has been a bad influence on Rajan. Or a good one, depending on your perspective.

Their hair is still damp from the shower, droplets dripping on to their bare shoulders. They haven’t seen her yet. She leans against the kitchen doorway and watches them: the way Rajan’s hand brushes lightly across the small of Wolfgang’s back as he moves around him, the way he drops a casual kiss to Wolfgang’s shoulder as he leans over him to shake seasoning into the cooking pot.

She watches the ease with which Wolfgang accepts the touches, so different from the brash man that had come to live with them, so confident about sex, so unused to being loved. Kala thanks God again for Rajan’s great heart, that he’s been able to love Wolfgang as much as she does, that he’s been able to embrace this unconventional relationship.

She watches as Wolfgang reaches out and tugs Rajan’s towel, just enough that it starts to slip. She watches Rajan pretend to frown, the corner of his mouth twitching as he grabs at the towel to stop it falling to the floor. She watches him throw the towel carelessly on the kitchen bench as he turns and sweeps Wolfgang into his arms. He kisses Wolfgang passionately, unreservedly, crowding him against the bench, and Wolfgang’s arms come around him immediately as he returns the kiss.

She could watch this forever. 

She must make some movement though, or possibly Wolfgang merely senses her, because he leans back, breaking the kiss, and his eyes turn to her. “Hi.”

“Kala!” Rajan’s already smiling, as he turns to look at her, that smile that says he’s delighted to see her, that smile that means everything to her. He holds out his hand. Kala steps forward and takes it and allows herself to be drawn into their embrace.

“What’s for dinner, husbands?” she asks.

**Author's Note:**

> Kala gets Tased once. She has a brain injury as a result of the accident, sensate-related, similarity to real mental health issues.


End file.
